Darkest Before Dawn
by LizzeXX
Summary: Aragorn/OC - Menna has put her knife-throwing skills to good use, helping save one of the Company from almost certain death. When a race for the Hobbits veers off course and lands what remains of the Company in Rohan, Menna will find herself facing more battles than ever before. All the while Aragorn must face an enemy within himself. Second in the Quests of the Nameless trilogy.
1. Giving Chase

A/N: Gi suilon! :) This is the second of the Quests of the Nameless trilogy, Darkest Before Dawn :) I've written some other stories for other shows and movies, but this is my attempt at trying to incorporate an original character into LotR. This story will not be an Aragorn/Arwen story but an Aragorn/OC fic. I would recommend reading the first story to learn more about Menna, the OC, her personality, past, the meaning of her name, and how she ended up as an unofficial member of the Company :)

As I mentioned in the first story I wrote for the Fellowship (Thief in the Night), I _have_ read all 3 books in the Trilogy, as well as the Hobbit, seen the movies, and I've also had the pleasure of being able to take a college seminar on Tolkien. That said, this story will focus mainly on the events of the movies with a few changes here and there to remain closer to the spirit of the novels. If I do get anything completely, glaringly, can't-be-ignored wrong in the course of posting this story, please let me know and I'll do my very best to fix it! Though I will warn, there is a character in this story that, with the OC involved, events were changed and said character survives, that is one thing I know is 'wrong' from the book standpoint, but the OC existing in this story-universe changes things so I hope you'll still give this story a change ;)

This story will be about 10 chapters long and will be updated on a rotating basis between this fic and 4 other stories I'm posting, on Monday/Wednesday/Fridays. So, for example, I post it today, a Wednesday. There are 4 other stories I'll post on Friday, then all of next week, so the next chapter for this story will be not next Monday but the one after ;)

A short description of my OC, Menna: She is a young woman with blonde hair the color of pale straw which she wears in a braid, with brown eyes. She typically wears dark, worn, brown trousers with dark boots and an olive green shirt. She is lightly tanned in a more peach tone. She wears a necklace of a crudely carved horse which the Company has come to learn was nicked off a Princess of Rohan. She also has a skill with throwing knives due to a life in the woods and with more than enough time to teach herself how to use them. I picture Menna to look something like Miranda Raison ;)

I hope you enjoy :)

~8~ is a scene break

Disclaimer...I don't own Lord of the Rings...or we might have had a few more women taking part lol ;)

~8~

Giving Chase

Menna slowly stepped back into the makeshift camp that what was left of the Fellowship had set up. They hadn't moved too far from their original spot, nor did it appear that the Uruk-Hai who had attacked them were coming back to finish the job. It had not even been that long since everything fell apart. Frodo and Sam had departed with a small boat of their own, clearly intending to finish the quest by themselves. Merry and Pippin had been apprehended by the Uruk-Hai, stolen away by them and dragged off. Boromir had very nearly lost his life, an arrow had ended up embedded in his chest, from what Legolas had said it was a mere inch away from his heart. Clearly the Uruk who had fired at him intended for Boromir to suffer and not to outright die. It had wanted to fell him but only so Boromir would have to watch as those he was protecting were taken from him, to watch as he failed.

Legolas had managed to heal Boromir, using her last stores of kingsfoil, but he survived. She could see Boromir from the tree line as she stepped back into the camp. He was sitting up against a tree, struggling to put on his shirt, Legolas had recently changed the dressing on the wound in his chest. It was wrapped in bandages, but there was no red soaking through it like there had been moments after he had been healed. The Elf Prince had clearly outdone himself, had poured as much magic and energy as he could into the process. Even Aragorn was surprised by the state the man was in so soon after the healing had finished. Mere hours later he was awake, hours after that he was sitting up. And now he was moving on his own, looking somewhat pale, but far better than he had been.

Gimli was snoring slightly, curled up by a boulder. He had been keeping watch all through the night and was taking a few short moments to rest before they were to move out. She herself had gone to refresh their water supply and freshen up somewhat in a nearby stream. She also needed to wash the remnants of the salve Aragorn had used to tend to her own injuries off. While they had worked when first applied, and her left arm was no longer as swollen as it had been, the salve had left something of a crust along her shoulder and she could not stand it any longer. It also gave her a chance to test her wounds as well. For as much treatment as Boromir had gotten from Legolas, she had gotten the same from Aragorn. She had woken to find her head resting on Aragorn's shoulder, the man not having moved at all during the night just so she could rest.

Her ribs still stung, but a tight wrapping would help ease that discomfort. She would likely not be able to use a knife in her left hand for a few days more, her wrist still quite painful to move from where Boromir had slammed it against the stone of the ruins. But her shoulder could be rotated, it was still somewhat stiff and tender, but she could move it if she needed to. It would still be best to let her arm rest in the sling Aragorn had fashioned for her until it was necessary to defend herself once more. She could see that the side of her face was no longer bruised, the salve Aragorn had made for her had done its job there as well. It was still red and just a bit puffy, but the bruising had receded, leaving a faint yellow hue that signaled healing. There was no discomfort or pain in her face though, she could move her jaw, she could eat, she could drink, she could speak.

All in all, the Fellowship was not in as dire straits as they had been only hours ago, and none of them could abide resting there any longer, not with Merry and Pippin's lives hanging in the balance, their fate in the hands of Uruk-Hai. Boromir felt it was his duty to save the two Halflings, for he had been the one who failed to protect them in the first place. He could not be placated in resting longer, Menna could see he was already trying to fix his sword belt onto his waist once more. Nor could she stand staying there any longer, she had come to care for Merry and Pippin a good deal since the quest began.

She caught sight of Aragorn and Legolas speaking the quietly by the shoreline, the Elven Prince murmuring something to Aragorn and nodding his head before he turned to make his way back to camp. She was sure it was to examine Boromir once more, to ensure he would be ready to move out. It would not do for them to have to heal him all over again and risk Legolas expending that energy. They had had to rest overnight, but they could not risk resting any longer.

"We are to depart soon?" Menna asked as she approached Aragorn, the man looking across the waters at where Frodo and Sam's boat was still resting, deep in thought.

"Aye," Aragorn agreed, looking over at her for a moment, his gaze flickering from the wounds that had been on her face to her arm and back to her eyes, "Legolas scouted the surrounding area, he has spotted village not far from here. It should take no more than two days to reach."

Menna blinked as she looked up at Aragorn, "I was up the impression that we would not be heading towards a village but after Merry and Pippin."

"Yes, we shall continue the quest to bring Merry and Pippin to safety."

"Then what care would I have for where a village rests?"

Aragorn sighed and looked back out at the water, "You and Boromir are the most injured of..."

"You mean to send Boromir and I away?" Menna questioned, a note of indignation in her voice.

"It is for your own protection, neither of you are in any state to fight."

"We may need a day or two more, but the chance of us catching up to the Uruk-Hai before Boromir and I are ready to fight is slime and you know it. We shall not be leaving the three of you alone to face an army of Uruks!"

"You do not get a say in this, I was tasked by Gandalf to lead the Fellowship to see the mission through. And I am commanding you..."

"You are NOT my king," Menna repeated, her voice so firm and growing steadily more angry that Aragorn's attention moved back to her from the water, "You may be able to command Boromir, but you cannot me. I am not even a part of your Fellowship to order about. I will not leave, I refuse."

"It is not _safe_ for you any longer."

"Any longer?" she let out a scoffing laugh at the words, "It was never safe to begin with. What makes you think whatever we shall face in the future will be any more dangerous than what we have already encountered?"

"There will be less of us to protect you."

Menna gave him an unimpressed look, "Yes, because four Halflings truly make the difference in terms of battle plans."

"Menna..."

"We are no worse off than we were before, if you wish for Boromir and I to depart you will need a better excuse than that."

Aragorn had to look away once more, a tension radiating through him, a bolt of some emotion he couldn't quite name churning in his gut. It was enough of an excuse, in his mind. To him, it didn't matter whether the four extra members of the group were Halflings or not, it was four more people. He has not been able to keep her safe. Her or Boromir, when they had been at their full number of nine members. HE had not been enough to keep her safe, she had gotten hurt, she could have been killed just being in the woods trying to look for Sam.

And that was on him, it was his duty to keep the company safe and he had failed. He had failed and she could have died, he could have lost her...he could have lost her and Boromir.

"Boromir refuses to leave us unless it is under your command," Aragorn told her instead, not even noticing that the hand that had just been resting on the hilt of his sword began to clench as he spoke.

"I know not what you mean by that," Menna frowned, shaking her head, not quite understanding if this was Aragorn's way of giving her yet another excuse for why she should go, "I have no say over Boromir's will. For all your claims, YOU are his King."

"Aye, but it is to _you_ he owes a life debt."

Aragorn's grip on his sword tightened even more as he thought back only hours ago. Gimli had been a short distance away from the camp, keeping watch while Legolas rested in something of a restorative trance. Menna had been sleeping soundly against his shoulder but he could find no rest himself. The night was cool yet he had felt too warm, and while a part of him knew it had something to do with the body resting next to him, a larger part of his mind refused to let his thoughts venture down that path. Instead he had turned his attention to Boromir, watching the man intently as he slept, the rise and fall of his chest to ensure nothing happened to him in the night.

At some point Boromir had woken, seeming quite surprised he was able to wake, that he was still alive, which Aragorn could not fault him for. He had done his best to calm the man down when he began to move and squirm, as though trying to push himself up but the injury to his chest, the pain that radiated from it, kept him from moving too much more. It was only once Boromir had looked over to him, and seen Menna resting beside him that the man seemed to slump in relief.

They had spoken for only a few brief moments, Boromir still clearly very worn and exhausted from the earlier events. But what had been said was something that had replayed in his mind over and over throughout the night. Boromir had asked about the Hobbits, of course, and seemed very disheartened to learn Merry and Pippin had still been taken, that the rest of the Fellowship hadn't been able to keep them safe. Then, in a surprising moment, he had asked of Menna, of whether she was badly injured. He had asked, once he had been reassured she would be well, if she had been the one to throw the knife that felled the Uruk-Hai who had been about to end him. Boromir had fallen silent after Aragorn replied that it had been her indeed.

The next thing Boromir spoke was to announce he now owed a life debt to Menna.

He had looked to Aragorn, tears in his eyes as though his king would be angry with him for it.

And Aragorn could understand why he might fear that. A life debt was the only thing that could come above an oath or fealty sworn to a king or kingdom. To owe someone a life debt was to bestow them everything you were, your sword, your loyalty, _everything_. For all of Boromir's talk of how he would have followed his King into anything, Aragorn knew the tears in his eyes were because he could no longer hold true to that oath.

He owed Menna his _life_ , and would not be parted from her until he had repaid it in kind. And Aragorn could see, in that single moment where Boromir looked back at the sleeping Menna, that he would be the most dedicated, loyal, and protective guard the woman could have ever had. Boromir would truly lay down his life if it would keep her safe, he would fight all his battles for her, he would do whatever she needed of him. And then the man had looked at him, still begging for forgiveness that the object of his loyalty had changed. He felt as though he were betraying his King with his new debt.

He had only been able to tell Boromir it was a worthy cause before the man had drifted back off to sleep, appearing reassured by his few words. And he had been left to the silence of the night and the thoughts running through his mind.

Now, in the daylight, he refused to give any credence to where his mind had drifted in the shadows. Now, in the daylight, with Menna beside him, awake and looking at him, he refused to give name to the emotions that had plagued him as he watched her rest, telling himself he was only watching to make sure she experienced no discomfort from her wounds in the position she rested in.

A small voice in the back of his mind that sounded quite a bit like Gandalf murmured that all his efforts would do would be to cause those same thoughts and those same emotions to come up when he least wanted them to. That to try and ignore something would only serve to make it more obvious with time.

He quickly pushed that thought to the side, refusing to let his mind drift in that direction.

Whatever qualms he had seemed to develop with Boromir and his new role in Menna's life would be nothing in the grand scheme of the quest they were on. Now was not the time for strife, now was not a time for them to be divided even more. Right now he needed to be the leader the company looked to him to be.

"He owes me no such thing," Menna's voice spoke, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"He would disagree with you on that," Aragorn replied, only just barely keeping the note of resentment that seem to want to slip into his voice out of it.

Menna, however, rolled her eyes, "I am sure certain this quest done nothing but prove Boromir and I will constantly disagree about many things."

Aragorn felt his lip quirk up in a smile at her words, "If we have learned nothing else..." he agreed, "But even if you try to release him from it, his honor will not allow him to accept. He will not have felt as though he had earned it, as though he had repaid what you have given him.."

"I gave him an Uruk with a knife in its head, nothing else. If he owes a debt to anyone it would be to Legolas."

"Who would not have been able to heal him as he had were it not been for your Athelas."

"Well he is not a very good Elf if he couldn't heal without kingsfoil," Menna muttered under her breath, sounding quite displeased with the situation, but understanding now why Boromir seemed to believe it was to _her_ he owed anything.

They were silent for a long moment, both of them looking out onto the water, hearing the faint rustling behind them of camp being packed up. It was another minute before she spoke.

"I cannot ask him to leave the company," she told Aragorn, though the way the man stood it was as though he already knew she would say such a thing, "If he is honor bound to me, then it is my duty not to take advantage or to cause him harm because of it."

Aragorn looked over at her for her words, but she didn't appear to notice, still looking out at the water though she had begun to fiddle with the necklace she wore.

"I will not see him become less than who he is because of a debt he owes to one of the Nameless..."

"Menna..."

A small, rueful smile grew across her face as she looked up at Aragorn, "I know what I am, and I know what I'm worth, and neither of them is deserving of a life debt from a man of as noble standing as Boromir."

"You have more value than you realize," he told her, with such an earnest tone in his voice that Menna had to look away.

She shook her head gently, in thought. Her name was attached to nothing and no one, displayed no family legacy, held no meaning to any, had no meaning beyond being just a word. To be Nameless was a punishment assigned to those who had done something monstrous or traitorous, whose name had been so tarnished it was stripped from them, to be cast from a family and have nothing and no one to their name. They were worth _nothing_ to anyone.

 _She_ was worth nothing to anyone, she was not worth a life debt.

"I will not pull him down to my level," she continued to speak, "Boromir swore an oath to help Frodo destroy the Ring. He fought to keep Merry and Pippin safe. He is unable to see the first done, but he can still succeed in the second. I will not ask Boromir to stand aside while all of you go and rescue those he failed to protect," she looked at Aragorn, "He, out of all of us, deserves to see Merry and Pippin safe."

She gave him a firm nod, turning to head back to the camp to gather the last of her things, when Aragorn called out, stilling her.

"You speak of your worth as one of the Nameless," he began, "But your wisdom, and your heart, their worth cannot be measured."

Menna closed her eyes for a moment at his words, her back still to him, before she took a breath and continued on to camp, trying to do her best to ignore the men around her. She had had more in-depth and meaningful conversations on this Quest than she had ever had in her life. She was not sure she could handle another.

~8~

Menna had tried her best not to notice how the dynamic of their small group had changed. It felt like years ago that she had joined them on their Quest, that she had dealt with the animosity of almost everyone except for Gandalf, Aragorn and Frodo. She had never expected so much could change so quickly. But yet there she was, rushing across the grass plains of Middle Earth, following Legolas and Aragorn as she had been for days now, with Boromir matching her stride only a few paces to her left, Gimli struggling to keep up behind them.

They trusted her now.

It was a startling thought, a bracing realization, but she could tell that they did. Living life the way she had, she had needed to be able to understand the people around her, to know who was a threat and who would be an easy target to pickpocket. She had needed to know which people had their guards down, and which were just too alert and suspicious of everyone. It has been very easy to tell when she first began to travel with the Fellowship which ones didn't trust her, which ones were starting to, and which ones never would.

She had felt as though Sam would never trust her, though it didn't appear he truly trusted many in the group besides Merry and Pippin, not with the safety of Frodo. Merry, also, did seem a bit more like the sort not to trust any who was not a Hobbit, though the way Pippin had started to trust her seemed to sway Merry just a little more. Gimli perhaps was also one of the few who had started to trust her. But it always seemed as though Legolas and Boromir never ever would.

So it was that much easier now to see how differently they treated her, how differently they looked at her even. There was a trust there that had not been. While she could understand Boromir's, for the man was clearly set in his ways of thinking she had saved his life, though she was sure it was more Legolas than her, she had not anticipated Legolas to trust her as he had come to. It felt like only a day ago he had looked at her with suspicion and even irritation. In fact, it had been only 4 days ago. But that animosity was gone now. The only thing she could think of that had earned her his trust was how quickly and easily she had handed over her entire store of athelas to him for the sake of trying to save Boromir. Legolas had healed the man and gone to rest and woken up trusting her. So it was the only thing she could think of.

She was not about to complain of finally gaining the trust of the Fellowship, it just felt odd. So much of her life been dealt distrusting of everyone, of always being distrusted. You can never trust a thief. She had never expected to actually gain their trust in the first place, so now that she had it it was...so very odd.

It felt it was glaringly obvious she now had Boromir's trust. He had said nothing to her of life that he owed, or felt he owed, but she had noticed a specific shift in the way he acted around her. He seemed more considerate, more helpful when she struggled, he seemed keen to stay paced with her as opposed to rushing ahead beside his King, he stayed closer to her, and she caught him watching her a time or two. It was utterly bizarre.

So she tried very hard not to think of it, she didn't like this idea of anyone owing her anything. But Aragorn was right, it would take something more than her just saying he had repaid the debt for him to actually believe he had done it. She just had to figure out how...

Aragorn held up hand, slowing in his run, pulling her thoughts and attention back to the present as he moved on to his knees as they caught up with him, laying his ear down onto a rock embedded in the ground, closing his eyes, listening.

Menna looked over as Gimli jogged up to them, the Dwarf seeming rather out of breath. Boromir himself seemed a little more pale and worn, but he had kept pace and he had endured.

"Their pace has quickened," Aragorn informed them after a moment, opening his eyes and looking up at them, "They must have caught our scent. Hurry!" he jumped to his feet and ran, leading them in the direction he had heard.

Apparently the Uruk-Hai that had attacked them, according to Legolas with his Elf eyes, had thought it would take them longer to get on their feet, and so had not pushed themselves as fast as they could go. They had not gone as far as Aragorn had feared, but now he was in quite a rush as the Uruks seemed to be picking up the pace.

"Come on, Gimli!" Legolas called, looking back at the huffing Dwarf before he bolted after Aragorn, Menna and Boromir rushing along.

"Three days' and nights' pursuit," Gimli grumbled to himself as he caught more breath, "No food. No rest. And no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell."

But he was not to be outdone by two injured humans, and so he ran as fast as he could, sprinting across the land after them and rolling his eyes every time Legolas peeked back over his shoulder to make sure he was still keeping up.

~8~

"There!" Menna shouted suddenly, pointing to something she had seen glinting in the sunlight, rushing over to it. She picked up one of the clips that Galadriel had given to them with their cloaks when they departed Lothlorien. She might not be as expert a tracker as Aragorn and Legolas were, but she knew shiny things of great value, and a jewel in the middle of a field would not escape her eye. She was sure Gimli would have spotted it too...had he been closer.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," Aragorn murmured as they all gathered around Menna to see what she had found.

Boromir let out of breath of relief when he caught sight of it, for clearly it had not just fallen off of a cloak, it had to have been pulled off and left for a reason, "They may yet be alive," he realized.

Aragorn nodded, looking towards the distance, "And less than a day ahead of us. Come!"

~8~

The valley they had been sprinting through began to increase in elevation, moving more into rolling hills and smaller mounds of rock. It made it a little more difficult for Menna and Boromir to keep up with men as light-footed as Aragorn and Legolas, but at least they were still faring better than Gimli. Menna looked over her shoulder when she heard a grunt, to see Gimli appear to have stumbled out from behind a set of rocks and roll to the ground. For a brief moment she considered going back to help him up, but realized, by the time she actually made it to him, he would be on his feet already and racing after them once more.

"Come, Gimli!" Legolas called, having heard the grunt as well with his Elf ears, "We are gaining on them!"

Gimli's panting could be heard even by the humans a good distance ahead of him, "I am wasted on cross-country! We Dwarves are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over short distances!"

"Prove it!" Menna called back to him, "Imagine this a series of sprints!"

She couldn't muster many words past that, her lungs starting to burn as her legs were from the constant running. While Aragorn and Legolas seemed to keep a more sedate pace the first day or two they had been going after the Uruk-Hai, when they realized she and Boromir were more than capable of keeping up they began to push the pace even more.

They raced up a hill where Aragorn and Legolas had come to a stop, gazing down across the plains.

"Rohan," Aragorn told them, seeing familiar landmarks that of kingdom's territory, "Home of the horse-lords."

Menna let out of breath at that, her one hand flying up to the necklace that she wore, and quickly moving to tuck it under the edge of her cloak so it wouldn't be seen. That would be all she would need, for the wrong person to see her necklace and ask her where she had gotten it. She was quite certain she would end up in a cell.

"It should not be possible for the Uruk-Hai to have gotten this far so quickly," Boromir spoke with a small pant to his voice, trying to gain his breath, though not able to take quite as deep breaths as his chest was still tender from the wound he sustained.

"Aye," Aragorn agreed, "There is something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us."

"Do you see anything Legolas?" Menna looked over at the Elf as he move to jump onto a boulder nearby, squinting out into the distance.

"The Uruks turn northeast," he reported, "They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!"

The entire company tensed at that information, looking to each other with mounting dread for the fate of Merry and Pippin...for Isengard could only mean one thing.

"Saruman," Aragorn breathed.

This time, when Aragorn turned to rush off in that direction, Menna and Boromir were expecting it and rushed off with him.

~8~

The pace had never been so quick, trying to reach the Uruks before nightfall, but they could see the sun starting to set in the sky, and they feared they might have to set up camp this night. As Gimli had said, days without food or rest, they would not be able to keep up their march much longer. If they were to encounter the Uruks that had seized Merry and Pippin, they would need to be at full strength to battle them and see the Hobbit safe. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement that this one night they would set up camp and rest truly for the battle that was to come.

"Keep breathing!" Gimli panted behind them as they tried to cover as much distance as they could while the sun was still up, "That's the key! Breathe! Ho!"

"They've run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them," Legolas warned.

"It is the foul magic of Sauron," Boromir told them.

"Aragorn," Menna called out to him, "We cannot keep pace much longer."

And, indeed, the fact that they had managed to keep peace for so long was a miracle in and of itself.

"Just a little further," Aragorn urged.

But Menna shook her head, knowing that if they allowed it, it would always be a little bit further and a little bit further, with no end in sight, "We make for the stones," she shouted to him, gesturing in the direction where a mound of stones was visible in the distance, "And then we make camp," she looked at the others, "Agreed?"

It was no surprise to her when the first person to agree with her plan was Boromir. Gimli followed close after, but Legolas turned to Aragorn as though waiting for his approval. Aragorn looked at them, at the state they were in, and nodded, "Agreed."

Menna gave him a grateful smile and a nod of thanks, before they all braced themselves and ran for that final distance.

A/N: My thoughts on Boromir's status. In the Hobbit movie, when Tauriel healed Kili, he had endured his wound longer, it was poisoned, and he was near death. Boromir, while injured and near death, the wound was not in his heart but close to it. If someone shot in the leg could be healed by a Silvan elf and ready to trek to a mountain the next morning, I feel like it's not unreasonable that Boromir could be fit enough to go with the company after being healed by the Prince of Mirkwood himself.

But hmmm…Boromir owes Menna a life debt now? Aragorn doesn't seem completely pleased with the situation… };) I'm honestly not sure how a life debt would work, I've read a few different interpretations of it, so I tried to keep it true to what I felt might exist in Lord of the Rings and fit with Boromir's personality and sense of Honor :) I think it'll be quite interesting to see Boromir interacting with Menna with that in mind while Aragorn seems to be starting to come to a few realizations about feelings... :)

And I just want to say thank you all to those who followed the last story and enjoyed it, I really love you all so much and I cannot thank you enough for your support and patience. It means the world to me that you liked Menna and her slow start with Aragorn and I look forward to giving you more moments between them here :) I always feel like it's not till you almost lose something that you start to realize its significance to you, and Aragorn had quite a fright in the last story, so I am very excited to explore that more here :)

Lastly, just putting this here because I've promised my sister I would tell people about it, I made a page called ko-fi, where people can show support of a person by contributing a 'cup of coffee' to them. It's not a real cup of coffee, it's a donation that is roughly the cost of a cup of coffee, or about 3 dollars. The link is up on my profile or on my tumblr's LINKS page if anyone is interested. There's no obligation, requirement, or commitment, it just sort of feels to me like a little 'let's talk about your work over a cup of coffee' ;)

Some notes on reviews...(from the end of TITN)...

Menna returns today! :D I plan to try and start the new stories of LOTR when the next chapter of it would normally occur. So today would have been the next chapter of TITN had it not finished, so it's the first chapter of this one :)

Boromir is definitely going to be trying to find his redemption, as for canon, I can't say what might change or what won't. As far as some people are concerned, given what they saw, there's no way Boromir could have survived and word might spread fast about things that aren't true any longer, we'll have to wait and see ;) The next story is up now :)

Not so much an announcement, I do try to post the cover of the story on my tumblr for more information and FF usually sends things out automatically, but I hope you enjoy the story :)


	2. The Riders of Rohan

The Riders of Rohan

Dawn came sooner than any of the Company thought, but the agreement had been to only make camp for the night and so they were off, giving chase after the Uruk-Hai as soon as the sun moved over the horizon. They were confident they would manage to catch the creatures before the day was out and it was that hope to find Merry and Pippin once more that pushed even the wounded among them on faster.

They had only gotten a short distance from their camp, relatively short compared to the distances they had traveled over the last few days, when Legolas stopped, looking up at the sun.

"What is it, Legolas?" Boromir called, "What do your elf eyes see?"

"A red sun rises," he said, and they all looked up at the sky, "Blood has been spilled this night."

The group looked at each other for those words, growing more tense and concerned before they nodded to each other and gave chase once more. It did not sit well with any of them, to know that blood had been spilled while they slept. If anything had happened to the Hobbits due to their rest, the guilt alone would be crushing. They had rested with the purpose of recovering their strength so they might face the Uruk-Hai with better chances. If their rest had, instead, condemned the Hobbits? They had to keep the hope in their hearts that the Uruk-Hai were the ones of spilt blood.

They ran until the midday sun was high in the sky, until the noise of horses reached them. Aragorn turned them with haste, moving to hide them behind a set of boulders.

"I do not think there is need to hide," Menna murmured as they huddled, "I cannot recall the Uruks astride horses."

Aragorn merely held a finger to his lips as they listened to the noises growing closer. He peered around the rocks, seeing a large group of riders, Men, with banners flying as they passed. He glanced back at the company with him and nodded his head, stepping around the boulders and out of their hiding, the others following behind.

Menna made sure to keep closer to the back, noting how Boromir stood beside her instead of next to his king. She was going to have to speak to him about this behavior. It was unneeded and unnecessary.

It appeared that their mere presence in so large a group and so diverse, was enough to draw the attention of the riders without any needing to give call to them. One at the forefront turned his horse upon calls from those behind him, leading the riders back in a quick turn, all of them coming to circle the small company, growing closer with each pass until they were surrounded, spears pointed at them with a menacing intent.

Menna looked to the one who had turned his horse, who the others had followed, for clearly he must be the leader of this faction and indeed he began to speak as soon as his men had secured them.

"What business does an Elf, two Men, a woman, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" the man demanded, his intonation of 'elf' and 'dwarf' much different than how he spoke 'men' and 'woman' to them, "Speak quickly!"

"No," Menna's voice called out before any of the men could speak for she had seen Gimli opening his mouth and, from her time with the Dwarf, she could tell whatever he was about to say would cause some sort of offense with their captors. She pushed her way forward, coming to Aragorn's side as she stared up at the men on horses, "They possess _names_ ," she spoke clearly, her back straight, her voice firm, gesturing to them, "Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm, and Gimli, son of Glóin. You do not call them 'Elf' or 'Dwarf' as though they are lesser than you."

Aragorn felt his gaze pulled to her as she spoke, noting how she held her gaze high. Her voice had been that of steel, her words those of passion and conviction, her countenance reminding him of a queen's as did her demands of mutual respect. For a moment, he did not recognize this woman beside him, so different was she from the thieving traveler he knew her to be.

The effect, however, was broken quite quickly when the man who had spoken, his horse, snorted at her and Menna flinched back somewhat, though she still held her ground.

The man on the horse eyed her critically, his head tilted just to the side, his eyes narrowed, lips pursed. He seemed both confused and intrigued by her, and more than a little suspicious in general.

"And who are you to make such demands?" the horse lord demanded.

Menna's lips pursed, "Menna."

The man frowned deeply at that, his gaze drifting to the men standing proud with her, "You travel with one of the Nameless?" he asked, not giving them time to respond before he handed his own spear over to another man and got off his horse to approach her, "You would do well, girl, to remember your worth."

"MY worth?" she countered, staring the man down, a note of incredulity in her voice, "Answer me this, what are Eorlingas doing so far from the Mark?"

The man's eyes narrowed even more at her words. His gaze traveled over her once more, now that he was closer and looking at a different angle. He could see a sling cradling her arm, just barely visible through a crack in her cloak which she wore somewhat off center. He could see her eyes, her knives, her features. Something niggled at him in the back of his mind, but he shook his head. It was right to be suspicious of everyone.

"If I am worth nothing, what is YOUR name?" she continued.

The implication was clear enough for the men behind her to exchange looks. Aragorn had to admit, these men _were_ a good deal away from the Mark, farther than they should be and in far larger numbers than was normal. There was only one reason for it, and Aragorn was startled for a mere moment when he realized Menna clearly knew that reason. But then he recalled she had stolen a necklace from a princess of Rohan once, she had never said she'd taken it in the woods or in another village. If she had taken it while IN Rohan, she would have had to visit the realm at one point or another, she would be somewhat familiar with their customs.

But why would these men have been cast out? How could so many have been?

The leader of the men gave her a long look, so much so that Aragorn caught sight of Boromir's hand moving to the hilt of his sword, as though Menna was about to be struck down before them. When the man began to chuckle, "You are sharp."

"Aye, and not just her knives," Gimli added, even the Dwarf sensing that the tension had broken somewhat.

"She has more than proven her worth," Aragorn added, giving Menna a small smile before he turned a serious look back to the horse lord, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he greeted, gesturing to Boromir as well as Menna had introduced herself, Gimli, and Legolas, "And Boromir, son of Denethor…"

"The Steward of Gondor?" the man cut in.

"You know of my father?" Boromir spoke.

"Aye," the man nodded, "I am Eomer, son of Eomund, and sister-son of Theoden King."

Eomer couldn't help the smirk that grew on his face when he saw the woman, Menna, stiffen at the realization she had been so callous with one so close to the king. Her eyes were wide, her breath left her, and he felt his smirk start to fall just slightly when he noticed she appeared to pale somewhat. It was then that he realized she looked at him not as someone fearful of their life for the insult, but in another manner he couldn't place.

"We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden king," Aragorn spoke, pulling Eomer's gaze away from Menna.

Eomer's glance drifted to where Aragorn had now put a hand on the hilt of his blade as well, and back at the man who did not seem to even realize he had made such a move. As he had not drawn the sword, he allowed the move to be ignored. He shook his head, the man's words reaching him now, "Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," he pulled off his helmet to face them on equal footing, "Not even his own kin," he turned to gesture to the men, the spears withdrawing as he turned back, "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished."

"Banished?" Menna murmured, her good hand unconsciously moving to touch her necklace, though none could see it, feeling a guilt fill her. If one of the king's own family could be so easily banished…t'was a poison in the land indeed.

Eomer gave a solemn nod though his gaze flickered to where her hand had gone, tense as though expecting her to draw one of her knives yet relaxed when she did not, "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets."

 **"** We are not spies," Aragorn reassured him.

"We track a party of Uruk-Hai," Boromir added, hoping it might lend more explanation to the horse-lords, give a reason for them to be there beyond being the 'spies' they feared they were, "They've taken two of our friends captive."

"The Uruks are destroyed," Eomer informed them, "We slaughtered them during the night."

"But there were two Hobbits!" Gimli cried out, "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small," Boromir agreed, a desperation in his voice he was sure the others felt, "Only children to your eyes."

"We left none alive," Eomer stated, pointing to a plume of smoke in the distance, "We piled the carcasses and burned them."

"Dead?" Gimli breathed, heartbroken.

"I am sorry," Eomer offered them, not speaking of the oddness of watching the Elf place a comforting hand on the Dwarf's shoulder in grief. He looked to the group once more, his gaze drifting between Menna and Boromir, for clearly the two were injured. He sighed, shaking his head and called out, "Hasufel! Arod!" two horses, one dark and one light trotted forward, the men surrounding them parting to allow them through, "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters," with his words, it was clear he meant for the horses to serve as recompense for the death of the two Hobbits, but Eomer then let out a whistle, and another horse, black in color with splotches of grey, joined them, "Byre," he added, "For your injured," he glanced at Boromir and Menna, patting the large horse's neck, "It is all we can spare. Farewell."

They watched as Eomer put his helmet back on and mounted his horse once more.

The man hesitated to turn his horse and signal them to leave, instead looking back at them, "Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope, it has forsaken these lands," he looked to Menna for that, as though telling her that, while he was not one of the Nameless despite his banishment, he was just as forsaken, "We ride north!"

The small group stood there, looking on as the Riders of Rohan turned to fly off, waiting till they had disappeared over the rolling hills before they looked to the three horses standing there obediently.

Aragorn let out a long breath and looked to the remaining members of the company. He could see clearly that Gimli and Boromir, truly the two who had been closest to the Halflings, already feared their death was final. Legolas looked as though he did not wish to believe it, though he stared out at the burning smoke in the sky as though he would be able to see it behind the hills.

"I believe nothing I do not see with my own eyes," Menna murmured beside him.

Aragorn looked at her then, seeing her looking in the same direction as Legolas, but there was a determination in her voice. Not a desperation, not a despair, a determination. She would not allow herself to believe they were truly gone until she had seen it for herself. And he agreed. If the Riders had attacked the Uruk-Hai at night, there was a chance they missed something. If Pippin and Merry still had their Elven cloaks, they might have been hidden in the darkness and escaped. He, too, would not believe the Halflings were gone until he saw their bodies.

"Come," Aragorn called to the others, "We must away, before the trail is gone."

Menna nodded and had only taken a single step to begin their walk towards the smoke, when she heard sounds behind her and turned to see the men mounting the horses. Legolas on the lighter one, holding a hand out to Gimli to join him, while Aragorn took the brown horse and Boromir the darker one.

"We are…taking the horses?" she asked.

Though it was a fairly obvious answer. They had been given horses to use, not just any horses but _Rohirrim Horses_ , the best in all of Middle Earth. It would be foolish not to utilize them, their journey was long and hard, bound to get worse as it went. They could not continue to run across the lands as they had for the duration of it. Of course they would use the horses to make the journey not just swifter but safer.

"Menna," Boromir trotted over, holding out a hand to her.

"Can we not release them?" Menna continued, taking a step back from the approaching creature, "They have lost their masters, is it not cruel to force another upon them?"

"They are remarkable beasts," Aragorn patted the neck of his horse, leading it over to her, frowning when she stepped away from his approach as well, "They will aid us well. But we must go, now."

Menna looked down as he held out his own hand to her, assuming her reluctance to ride with Boromir was either do to it being Boromir, to a hesitation in trust or to his injuries being more fatal than hers had been, that she did not want to hurt him by having to hold onto him on the way.

She shook her head, "No," she told him, backing up more and looking up at him once more, "No I…I am sorry, Aragorn, but I shall not be continuing this quest with you. I cannot."

Aragorn's expression turned to a mix of concern and disbelief, to confusion, "Why turn your back on us now of all times?"

"Do not ask that of me. Please."

She knew it was mad, she knew she was acting mad, she had made it clear that she was determined to help on this quest, that she was committed and willing to fight to the bitter end to see Middle Earth cleared of the darkness that had fallen upon it. She had offered her life to this quest…yet NOW she pulled back? But this was not something she could help. It was not as though she had not tried to correct it over the years. But there was no time or opportunity or desire. She was fine on her feet, she had no need of a horse.

Boromir shared a glance with Aragorn before dismounting his horse, "You have my sword."

Menna looked over at him for that and shook her head, "I have no need of any sword."

"You are injured."

"As are you."

"I can still move freely," he argued as he approached her, leading the horse on.

Aragorn's frown deepened when Menna stepped back again.

"Is that all?" Menna asked, before huffing and moving to half-rip the sling from off her arm, bunching it up in her hand and tossing it to him, "As can I."

Boromir shook his head as Menna turned and began to walk, though she headed still in the direction of the smoke. He looked to Aragorn, his King upon his horse, watching Menna with mounting concern, "Is she…well?" he had to ask.

Aragorn knew not in what manner of 'well' Boromir was asking, he knew not if Menna _was_ well given her odd display. But he could offer at least one parcel he was aware of, "Her arm has mostly healed," he stated. He had tended to it just last night, testing the way it moved and if any swelling remained. Even with their movements and run, her arm had managed to heal well, "If there is one thing we have learned of her, she is most stubborn."

"Aye. But what ails her so?"

"I do not know," Aragorn sighed, but kicked his horse after Menna, leaning down slightly to scoop her up around the middle and heft her onto the horse with him.

"Aragorn!" Menna gasped, though there was an edge of a scream in her voice.

Aragorn was NOT expecting her to struggle quite as much as she had when he tried to maneuver her onto the front of the saddle with him. But it was as though, once she was on, she turned to stone. She did not move or even seem as though she were breathing. She merely clutched at any surface she could hold onto, rigid.

"Aragorn, let me down," she spoke and he could hear a true tremble in her voice, "Let me down. Please, Aragorn."

"Menna you are safe," he tried to reassure her, glancing back to see Boromir remounting his horse, he and the others trotting after them. He could not understand the fear in her words.

"No one is safe on these _beasts_."

Aragorn blinked, moving an arm around her middle to hold her more securely to his chest, "Menna…are you frightened of horses?"

"Frightened is not the word I would use," she had tensed so much in his arms she was starting to tremble.

He realized then that she was truly afraid of the horse beneath her. Frightened was not a strong enough word for her fear. It was as though she was crippled by the mere sight of it.

"Bill…" he began, thinking on the animal that had traveled with the Hobbits on their quest.

"Was but a pony, and always far from me," she hissed through her teeth, her hands now gripping his arm almost painfully tight. He could see her staring at the back of the horse's head as though it was an enemy ready to strike at her.

Thinking on what he could recall of Bill the Pony, Menna truly had not let herself near the beast. She had held herself well enough even when surrounded by the Rohirrim, but she had been wedged between him and Boromir, safe and protected by them. She had still flinched when Eomer's horse made a move at her, she had stumbled back from them when he and Boromir approached with their horses.

And right now, he could feel her in his arms, paralyzed with fear.

He looked over his shoulder at the others, "Ride on ahead," he called to them even as he began to slow his horse down, "All of you, we will be but a moment," he added when he saw Boromir starting pull his horse back as well.

He waited till they passed, till his horse came to a stop, to dismount. He turned, ready to help Menna off, but the woman was already scrambling to get down and moving as far from the horse as she could get, panting and shaking.

"My apologies," he murmured to her, patting the horse on the neck to keep it from moving as he stepped past it to her side. He reached out to touch her arm but she flinched back, shaking her head as she tried to ground herself once more, "I did not know…"

"I did not want you to know," she muttered under her breath. She wanted to hate him for forcing her onto such a beast the way he had. But she had not told him so she could not fault him his actions.

"There is no shame in…"

"Of course there's shame in it," she rounded on him and he felt his heart clench painfully at the sight of tears in her eyes that he caught before she looked away, "There's _always_ shame," she added, more softly, shaking her head. She turned her back to him once more, though she was sure he saw how she swiped under her eyes. She refused to cry before anyone, not for anything, but this was testing her.

"Menna…"

She held up a hand to silence him, before moving her hands to her hips, taking a deep breath and starting to pace before him, looking down at the ground and shaking her head. He left her to her silence, waiting till she stopped and looked up at the sky, and back down. But then she turned to face him.

"You don't know what it is like, to be so held back by your fears."

"Me?" Aragorn scoffed, "Do you think I chose not to reclaim my crown due to a lack of care alone?"

Menna looked at him a moment, "What have you to fear of your supposed crown?"

"I know no life but that of a Ranger," he took a step towards her, relieved she did not step back though he knew it was more the horse she had been backing away from earlier, "I am no king. I know not how to rule. I know not if I would be…a good king, a just one. The lives of all those people would be mine to protect. I could not even protect one Hobbit, how can I protect a kingdom?"

"You cannot see the forest through the trees," she murmured.

"Beg pardon?"

She looked at him, "It is harder to protect one than many. With many, there is a strength to be found in itself. You could not protect Frodo, but it is not _just_ to _you_ to do so. There are more of us, all of us, to help you. You would not be a king alone."

Aragorn caught her gaze, unable to stop his heart from beating hard for her words.

"You would have your Elven Queen."

Aragorn let out a breath, looking away. He did not know why he felt a swell of…of discontent. Of disappointment and of foolishness. _Of course_ she was speaking of Arwen, there was no other she could be speaking of, there _should be_ no one else his mind turned to in such a manner.

Menna had comforted him, reminded him he would not be left on his own to rule lonely. He would undoubtedly have advisers, an army, soldiers, counsel, people to help make better as a whole. And yes, he would have a queen beside him to help share the burden for he could not imagine keeping a wife for show only. He wouldn't be alone, but then why did he feel this was not a burden he wished to share with Arwen? Why did the thought of Arwen as his Queen set him ill at ease when it had been all he'd dreamed about for so long.

"Perhaps we should both just flee now while we can," Menna remarked softly, mistaking his silence as her words being of no comfort.

His lip quirked up at that, "You would never."

"No," she had to admit. Even when she had been threatening to leave the company she had still kept on her journey towards the smoke, "I swore to see this darkness removed from the lands, but…I _cannot_ do so on the front of a horse."

"Then perhaps the back?" he offered.

"Aragorn…"

"You would not have to see the horse," he remarked, "I can have Legolas and Boromir ahead so you would not need to see theirs. You would have more stability, more to grip."

"I do not think…"

"Do you trust me, Menna?" he asked, holding out a hand to her.

She looked down at it and back at him, "My how the tables have turned," she quipped, though her voice was nowhere near as strong as she wished it to be.

Aragorn chuckled and stepped closer, it was amusing how true that was. She had been the one asking if they trusted her not so long ago, and now here he was, asking the same of her. He held his hand out more, "I will never let anything hurt you, Menna. I swear it."

She looked up at him again, "I feel as though we _just_ had a conversation about protecting but one person…"

He smiled fully now, "You are not just one person, you are easily worth 10."

Menna returned his smile at the first few words she'd said to them after she'd stolen the Ring. She shook her head but took his hand, "I should warn," she remarked, "If any harm does befall me, I have a Steward-Prince of Gondor ready to avenge me."

Aragorn let out a loud laugh at that, getting on the horse, making sure to keep hold of her had and hold her gaze as they approached. He may have had to tug and pull her a little more than he'd thought to actually get her moving to get on the beast, but she had.

He was sure his ribs would be soundly bruised from the pressure of her grip around his waist, the top of his back might be as well for how she buried her face between his shoulders, and there was no room for him to move with her latched onto him as she was. But she was on the horse, terrified and gripping him with an unbreakable hold, and that was the first step and his heart swelled to know she trusted him with this.

~8~

Gimli nearly jumped off the horse as Legolas brought it closer to the burning pile of Uruk-Hai, Boromir and Aragorn, with Menna, close behind. They all dismounted, Aragorn not even able to manage a chuckle at how Menna had nearly leapt off the horse as well, focused on breathing and getting to the smoldering pile. Gimli was already shifting through it, his skin more durable than any other to handle burning items. He didn't stop until he had pulled what appeared to be a charred belt and a dagger sheath from the pile of Uruk-Hai bodies, not of Mordor-make.

"It's one of their wee belts," he breathed, horrified.

Menna looked over as Legolas bowed his head and began to murmur something in Elvish that reminded her of the laments for Gandalf. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Aragorn let out a cry, kicking a helmet away and sinking to his knees.

"We failed them," Boromir breathed, looking at the pile with devastation.

Menna shook her head, _refusing_ to believe that the two small Halflings died in such a manner. This was not a fate either of them deserved, they were both kind, gentle, and should not have endured such suffering. But she had thought this once before, feared this, that a Hobbit had been lost, that they had found an ill fate, and she had been proven wrong each time. Frodo lived, Sam lived, she would not believe Merry nor Pippin did not live until she saw their bodies with her own eyes. Which she did not. She saw the skin of the Uruk-Hai, their weapons, their armor, but none of the colors belonging to Halflings.

"I see no Hobbit bodies among them," she looked to the others, "I will pick this apart piece by piece if I must. But I will not mourn until I am certain."

Aragorn looked at her, pushing his own guilt and sorrow aside, "Aye," he agreed. It may be a fool's hope, but it was something they all needed to know, to be certain of. They would not be able to stand if the Hobbits survived and they had not gone to find them. He pushed himself to his feet, pausing when he noticed tracks beside the pile that drew his attention, "A Hobbit lay here, and the other…" he began to point out another depression in the ground, next to hoof-prints, "They rolled, avoiding the horse…they crawled…"

The others gathered around him as Aragorn followed the tracks.

"Their hands were bound," he noticed on the pattern of the crawl, no hand prints only bodies squirming. But then he saw it, a rope just a foot away, next to a fallen weapon, "Their bonds were cut," he picked up the rope and threw it to the side, seeing footprints now, "They ran over here. They were followed!" he spotted more non-Hobbit prints going the same direction, "But escaped," he picked up a fallen belt dropped there, "The tracks lead away from the battle..." he ran after them, his eyes on the ground, making sure they were going in the right direction, only to stop at the edge of a brush.

"Into Fangorn Forest?" Menna looked to Aragorn as the man stared into the thickness of the trees, dark and dense.

"Fangorn," Gimli repeated the name, sounding familiar with the forest itself and not seeming very keen to step foot in it, "What madness drove them in there?"

"I know not," Boromir spoke, "But it is the hope they shall be found within that drives me."

"Boromir!" Aragorn called as the man pushed his way into the forest, leaving them little choice but to follow.

A/N: Poor Menna :( This is not going to be a fun quest...not that it ever was going to be fun or easy...but to constantly be confronted with something she is frightened of for the rest of it? I can see many more rib-bruisings for Aragorn in his future lol ;) Though Menna's words after the Mines of Moria make a bit more sense now. It's funny how you can face things that are scary when it's not something that frightens YOU personally, but when it is your own fear, it can cripple you :( I think it also sort of explains how she kept up with Aragorn and the others with their run. If she is fearful of horses, she would never use one. She has only ever walked anywhere in Middle Earth, she must have some powerful legs ;)

I hope the confrontation with Eomer was alright. I kept trying to think how he'd react to a woman given he has a sister. But I felt like Menna, after everything, has a very strong bond and protectiveness for the others now, and she knows that calling someone by their species the way Eomer did could be a bit offensive. She did it herself but it was in more of a jest, but Eomer was looking at all of them with suspicion and that would not do. I thought, if she sort of insulted him first, he'd be a bit harsher with her than he might be another woman. That and her being one of the Nameless, we get to see how others besides the Company view them. They are worthless in society and not to be trusted, they aren't worth having a name so they are worth less to others for it. For all that Eomer might have been polite or let her words slide, to find out she was of the Nameless just made his reaction worse. But, in the end, he IS a good man at heart, and despite being Nameless, Menna is injured as is Boromir and he would not leave them to suffer if he could help it ;)

And, just to touch on Boromir, I'm glad you're all enjoying the twist where he lives :) His death was so heartbreaking to me because he tried so hard to be honorable and do the right thing, but it got twisted around. I feel like he died truly thinking he was without honor for all he'd done, for failing to protect Merry and Pippin too, for not being able to serve his king. I wanted to give him a chance to redeem himself so it'll be interesting to see how he handles the life debt and making up for his failings ;)

Some notes on reviews...

I can say that there may be a conversation or two that Boromir and Aragorn will have regarding Menna...whether one of them may involve a shovel talk, we'll have to wait and see ;)

Thank you! I went back and fixed it :) I tend to edit the chapters about 3-4 times before I post them but it feels like something always sneaks past me lol :)

Oh I've got some jealous Aragorn planned ;) It's sort of funny those scenes, because on one hand he's jealous, but on the other hand he doesn't quite KNOW that he is, because his head is still like 'well, logically, you SHOULD still be in love with Arwen' so she's sort of becoming this reminder of things in the past, but events happening in the present are more causing him to realize that things do change and sometimes there's no logic behind it. But he's never really been jealous before or hasn't been in so long that he's having trouble realizing he is and trying to balance the 'but I loved Arwen' with the 'wait...loveD?' Like she's been his dream for so long he's sort of not sure how to handle his dream changing on him ;) As for Boromir, I think it may be just friendship. I think, now that he's alive and going to be more 'team Menna' he's going to notice a lot going on between her and Aragorn, the way Menna reacts and acts to Aragorn and realizes she never did the same things to him or Legolas or Gimli. He would never come between his king and the woman who saved his life, nor does he really want to. He's a good man at heart, I think :)

I'm really glad the stories were able to help you through those times and that you've enjoyed them so much :') I hope you'll like what's still to come between Aragorn and Menna ;)


	3. Gandalf the White

A/N: If there appear to be any inconsistencies in Aragorn's thoughts regarding Arwen, there's a note at the end that might explain it ;)

~8~

Gandalf the White

What remained of the Fellowship carefully made their way through the thick of Fangorn Forest, Aragorn and Legolas in the lead, with Gimli and Menna in the middle, Boromir bringing up the rear. The two ahead were intently focused on the forest and the tracks they were following. Legolas had his senses attuned to the sounds of the woods, on the lookout for any dangers that may be hiding in the shadows of the trees. Aragron's gaze was fixated on the forest floor, his eyes keen on the impressions.

Menna glanced around, frowning deeply at the trees, looking side to side and around her carefully. She paused for only a moment when they passed a fallen tree that appeared to have been cracked down the middle, with another crack on either side of it. She looked at it as they rushed past it, her attention instantly snapping back to Aragorn as she began to push herself faster, moving ahead of Gimli and after Aragorn.

The man was so intently focused on the tracks, on finding the Hobbits once more that when he came to a sudden fall of the land, he nearly pitched forward and likely would have fallen had he not been forcefully pulled back by his cloak, landing hard on his back.

"You ought be more cautious," Menna's face appeared in his vision as she leaned over him, having been the one to pull him back. She moved before him, holding out a hand to help him up, "These woods are treacherous, full of sudden drops."

"My thanks," Aragorn murmured, letting out a breath as he saw the tracks appeared to have done the same as he and Menna. One appeared to have stopped suddenly, a smudging just to the side of it revealing a similar pattern in being pulled back, before the two sets continued along the edge, "I did not even see it."

"Nor I," Legolas frowned, he had been so intently focused on and dangers hiding and waiting to strike he had not looked for other dangers.

"You were not near enough to see the drop," Boromir pointed out, Aragorn had been in front of her.

"This is not my first time travelling through the Fangorn," Menna told them, "I have moved through Rohan before. That tree," she nodded back to it, "The one that appears like a crown in how it is cracked, I remembered it from before. It was near a sudden drop. One I nearly found myself a victim to as well."

"It is good you remembered such a thing, Lass," Gimli smiled at her, "I know I am not the only one who wishes not to lose another member of the company."

Menna gave them a nod, "Shall we?" she gestured forward, starting to move past them, though Aragorn moved beside her to continue tracking, understanding this was her way of guiding them away from any other such traps they might encounter.

"Truly," Aragorn spoke more quietly to her as they went on, "You have my thanks and…"

"If you say you owe me a life debt as well, I will push you off the next drop," she cut in, both a tease and a promise in her voice that had his lips quirking despite the ominous feel of the forest and the severity of their search.

"You could have let me fall," he countered, "A lesson to be more wary."

She rolled her eyes at that, "Yes, and endure the ire of all of Gondor should their king fall to his death? I would rather face a horse."

He couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him, "Then you believe I am the true king of Gondor?"

"I still do not see it," she remarked with an easy shrug.

"If you are so sure I am not a king, then how can I be certain you are not a queen?" he asked in jest.

He truly was a king, the crown of Gondor was his to claim, yet she seemed to have no doubt that he spoke of it as a ruse. By that logic, she could be a queen and yet deny it as much as he proclaimed himself to be one. It was an interesting and amusing thought. He didn't truly believe it to be so, but it would be a way to counter her disbelief. If he said he was a king and she did not believe him, then he should not believe her when she said she was a mere peasant.

Menna blinked and looked at him in confusion, "What would ever make you think someone like ME was a queen?"

"You are stubborn."

Menna bit back a laugh at that trait, looking back ahead of them with a smile on her face now. Of all the traits she possessed, none of which she deemed queenly in any manner, he chose her stubbornness, "I am too stubborn to be a queen, lest of all a good one if I were one."

"You would make a good queen because you are stubborn," he countered.

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Aragorn's steps faltered briefly. He had no inkling what possessed him to say such a thing.

Menna didn't seem to notice his lapse, merely remarking, "You are a good man, Aragorn, and if you were a king, I think you might be a great one. You would need a queen to match you. And if stubbornness a good queen makes, your elf must be the most stubborn in all of Middle Earth then."

Aragorn fell silent at her words.

He could feel a warmth seep through him at the compliment she paid him, the deference she offered with such a passing remark. He had always thought, to be a good king, he would need to become a different man, that all the traits and skills that had kept him alive, kept him who he was, would be lost when he took up the crown. He had never considered it as Menna phrased it, that because of who he was and how he was, he would be an even greater king. He would not lose everything about him, because, to her, it was that that made him a leader worth following. He had heard others remark on his future, offer him words of consideration that he would make a fine king, a good king, a great king.

Never had those words meant so much to him as when they came from Menna. So many others who said it to him knew he was to be king, of course they would reassure him he would be a good one. They saw his lineage and spoke what he wanted to hear. But Menna didn't believe it at all, she had made it clear she did not think he was the true king. So when she said that, if he were, he would be a great one…it felt like it meant more, that it was more sincere. She had no reason to lie to him or flatter him, she spoke plainly and freely what she thought and felt.

But for as warm as he felt at hearing her words, he felt something of a chill creep into him at her last ones, words that set him deep in thought.

Arwen was not as stubborn as Menna might believe her to be. She was strong of will, yes, she had begun a courtship with him, had been so certain it was a lasting one, had given him her Evenstar necklace to keep despite his efforts to return it to her and end their courtship. And he knew she was considering giving up her immortality for him, so she might share a mortal life with him. When it had been happening, he had been sure something in his mind saw that as being akin to stubbornness. But was it truly?

Could an act of love be stubborn? Could hurt from a broken courtship be stubborn?

He did not know.

He knew Elrond, her father, had begged of him to cut their bond, to walk away from Arwen. And he had. He had given in for love of her. He had not been stubborn, he had not fought for her, he wished for her to go with her people to the Grey Havens. He knew Elrond was going to speak to her, convince her to leave with their people, and he did not doubt Elrond would be able to do so. Arwen would leave Middle Earth for her father.

Beyond himself, beyond their courtship…he could not recall Arwen being what most would call stubborn. She was a high Elven Lady, centuries old, living in a secluded and beautiful paradise all her life. She had known no suffering, no loss beyond that of her mother who lived even still in the Grey Havens. She had known no hunger, nor bitter cold, no true fear. She was not a fighter, she was a lady, as lofty and untouchable as any elf though far more for her status. She floated on air and spoke as though a whisper on the wind, with a grace and poise to her that could not be matched and a beauty that would ensnare any who gazed upon her.

He could admit he himself had fallen in love with her upon that first sight.

But was that love?

He had never questioned it before. He had been so certain it was. Arwen had been the beauty and light in a world full of hardships and darkness. But was that enough to claim love? He had been so young then, had fallen so quickly and fast he had never considered another woman since. And when it appeared she returned his affections, he had felt as though the world was wonderful once more, felt as though he were living a dream.

Marching through the Fangorn now…he wondered if that was what it truly was, a dream.

Menna had brought up points he had never before considered, she had endured things that would have had Arwen fainting to see.

He glanced over at her now, just a moment, having already seen the tracks far ahead of them and feeling safe enough to look away.

She was half-stomping through the forest, her footfalls firmly landing on the ground. There was an inelegance to her movements, though a grace when she hurled her knives. She had lived with solitude, among the stone and wood, endured hunger, bitter colds, scalding heat. She stole and lied, yet she held true to her oaths. She joked and allowed herself to be a joke, to make others smile. She was protective and unafraid to speak out. She held respect for every life and every species and held no one to be higher, their life worth more, than another. She debased herself in how she spoke of herself, saw herself a worthless and having no place in this world, and yet she fought for it.

She had no cause to be so loyal to Frodo, she had no need to join them on their quest, such a dangerous one that could easily claim her life and likely nearly had at least half a dozen times over by now. And yet she had positioned herself among them, knowing where they had aimed to go, and willing to face the terrors ahead just for the chance of helping to remove the darkness from this land.

A small voice in the back of his mind called out to him to ask of Arwen. He wished he could turn his thoughts from her, for he knew the light in which they were rushing through him was not a good one. But what of Arwen? She had made oaths to him that she wished to stay with him in this world, yet she did not fight to go with him on this Quest? He knew he would not wish her to join him, he knew he would have done whatever he could to keep her from following him…but she had not made any effort to do so in the first place. She made promises to him to stay in this world and not the Grey Havens, yet she did not fight for this world? Instead she stayed in the safety of Rivendell.

He was being unfair, he knew this, as he shook his head to try and banish the thoughts. But the feeling that had grown in his gut would not allow them to disperse so easily. Arwen would not have been able to endure such a quest. The Elves of Rivendell were not the same as those of Mirkwood. Mirkwood Elves fought, all of them knew how, due to the threat of spiders, man and woman fought. Rivendell was far removed, with only select men taking up a weapon. It was unfair to think poorly of Arwen for not joining when she had not the skill or fortitude to do so.

Neither did the Hobbits, that same voice whispered to him again. Neither did Pippin, who had not the skill with a blade, nor did any of the Hobbits have the fortitude for combat or the dangers they faced, they had led such easy lives with little struggle or want of food. Yet THEY had joined the quest out of loyalty to their friend. Arwen could not even for love of him.

He shook his head more firmly, refusing to allow his thoughts to travel down that path any longer.

"The trees have a tendency to be not as firmly planted," Menna's voice cut into his thoughts, "Up ahead," she glanced at him, "Be cautious of those that may fall with the wrong gust of wind."

"Aye," he agreed, his mouth curving into a smile without thought.

"Aragorn!" Gimli called from behind them. They turned to see him crouched beside a leaf of a bush that had a dark stain on it, "Orc blood."

Aragorn nodded, looking down at the tracks they had been following once more, to see that something had shifted about them. They had followed Merry and Pippin's footsteps, but then they suddenly disappeared and two new tracks were left, "These are strange tracks."

"The air is so close in here."

"This forest is old," Legolas looked around.

"Is it even possible for a forest to be new?" Menna countered, seeing Gimli starting to get nervous. And truly, of course a forest would be old, trees took time to grow.

But Legolas shook his head, "This one is very old. Full of memory...and anger."

"What is that?" Boromir's hand moved to the hilt of his sword, hearing a groaning noise reverberate through the forest, Gimli following suit and raising his axe.

"The trees are speaking to each other."

"Stand down," Aragorn whispered to Gimli and Boromir, the two having drawn their weapons. He glanced over at Menna, the woman resting a hand on a knife along her strap but not pulling one yet.

"Aragorn," Legolas called, sounding tense, "Nad nâ ennas!"

"Man cenich?" Aragorn replied, looking in the same direction Legolas had settled on.

"If here is something out there," Menna cut in, "A tongue we can all understand would be appreciated."

"The White Wizard approaches," Legolas switched to the common tongue.

Aragorn quickly turned to the others, "Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us!" before he pulled his sword, the others taking action from him and readying their weapons, swords, knives, bow and axe all raised in waiting, "We must be quick!"

With a fearsome cry, they spun around, ready to attack. Gimli and Menna hurled their axe and knife at a figure who had appeared in a bright white light, Legolas releasing an arrow, only for all to be deflected. Aragorn and Boromir attempted to rush at the wizard, Boromir moving slightly in front of Menna as he did so, but their swords heated up, causing them to drop them with gasps of pain. The light around the wizard brightened, intensifying to the point where they raised their hands to block some of it.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," a voice spoke from within the light.

"Where are they?" Boromir demanded.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"No!" Menna huffed, "It is quite the opposite of comforting!"

"Who are you?" Aragorn called out, "Show yourself!"

A moment later, the light began to fade, receding into the wizard to reveal Gandalf! The man now dressed all in white with a white staff in his hand.

"It cannot be," Boromir shook his head, "It is a trick."

"You fell," Aragorn agreed.

Gandalf's expression grew grim and thoughtful, as though he were struggling to remember himself what had happened, "Through fire and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and everyday was as long as a life-age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."

"Gandalf!" Aragorn breathed.

"Gandalf?" the man seemed confused at the name, trying to place it, before he slowly remembered, "Yes...that's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name," he smiled at them.

"Gandalf!" Gimli cheered.

"I am Gandalf the White," he told them, "And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

~8~

It was with great reluctance that the small company made their way back through the forest with Gandalf. They had not wanted to end their trek for the Hobbits, they had been intent to rescue them from the Orcs, to ensure they were safe. They had not found them. But Gandalf had reassured them and promised them that they had encountered an old friend of his whom he would trust with his life to care for and protect the Hobbits. It was not as much a reassurance, but Gandalf had also pointed out that they would be safe, for the friend he spoke of was taking the Hobbits away from the fighting and the danger. He had resumed leadership of what remained of the company, however, and was leading them back through the woods, saying that they would be needed somewhere else, another area where Sauron had a treacherous hold, a people who needed help.

Menna was a little lighter of spirits herself, for not only was she pleased to know that the Hobbits were safe and heading away from danger, but she was wearing her own cloak once more. Gandalf's robes, the stark whiteness of his attire had nearly made him a target of their attack, for there was only one White Wizard most knew of, and he was in Sauron's grasp. They did not want Gandalf to be attacked by others on their journey, so she had offered him the cloak the Lady Galadriel had gifted to the company. The grey surrounded Gandalf and helped cover the white of his garb. She had not been unappreciative of the gift, it was being used, but she now was able to wear her preferred cloak. So she was in good spirits.

Boromir, however, who was walking beside her, did not. Aragorn had taken to walking with Gandalf ahead, telling the wizard of all he had missed, while Legolas and Gimli walked behind.

"I know you are not displeased to find the Hobbits safe," she remarked, if just for something to say to the grim man, "What ails you?"

He let out a sigh, "I am relieved they are well and protected, I just had hoped…as selfish as it may sound, to be among those who kept them safe."

Menna nodded, understanding, "I do not find it selfish," she remarked.

And she didn't. Boromir had endangered one of the Hobbits, had fallen to the corruption of the Ring, but he had fought nobly to protect two other Hobbits. And he had failed to keep them safe as well. To a man like Boromir, where honor was everything, it did make sense he would have hoped to have had a hand in rescuing them, in fulfilling his intention to guard them the first time.

"You swore to protect the Hobbits, but now there are no Hobbits to guard," she continued, "You cannot fulfill your oath and it leaves you ill at ease."

"Aye," he agreed, "I take my oaths very seriously."

She could hear a reaffirmation in his voice, as though he were reminding himself of that fact, not wanting to have to admit he had broken his oath to Frodo, but wanting to make up for it.

"I pay back my debts," he added, almost as an afterthought or a continuation of his thought that she was sure she wasn't meant to hear.

She let out a sigh, "Boromir," she began, "I am aware you feel as though you owe me a life debt…"

"I do not feel as though I do," he cut in gently, "I know that I do."

"You truly do not."

"If it were not for you, Menna, I would be dead."

"If it were not for Legolas and his healing, you would certainly be dead," she agreed, "If it were not for Gimli and Aragorn reaching the camp when they did, you would be dead. It was not just I that caused for you to live."

She knew how it seemed to him, Aragorn had explained it to her, but she was truly hoping she might be able to convince him otherwise

"That Uruk-Hai was readying another arrow," he countered, "I was too wounded to move fast enough to avoid it. It would have struck true, and I would be beyond help, beyond Elven healing. YOU stopped it. You and your knife brought down my opponent and prevented another injury taking me."

"We save each other all the time," she reminded him, "In the Mines, we all fought to protect each other. Yet I do not see any of us counting those kills as earning a life debt. I saw an Uruk, I threw my knife."

"And saved MY life," he added, "In the Mines, yes, we fought for each other. But at that camp, you did more than fight. You gave up the last of your athelas stores so I might stand a chance of being healed. If it had not been for you, twice over, I would be dead. I think that is more than enough to earn a debt."

Menna shook her head and looked forward once more. She was silent for a long while, long enough, she was sure, for Boromir to assume he had won the argument. But it was not that, it was more her trying to place the words to say to help him understand why a life debt to her was so foolish.

"I am not worth your life, Boromir. Do not waste it on someone like me."

Boromir's head snapped over to look at her so sharply she feared he had injured his neck, the deep frown that settled on his face appeared so serious she thought it might stick in such a manner.

She could hear a falter in the steps behind her but not before, and realized Gimli, and of course Legolas, had heard her remark, though Aragorn, deep in his conversation with Gandalf, had not.

"All life is worthwhile," Boromir argued.

"That is kind to say, but not true," she pointed out, "An Uruk?" she used as an example, "An Orc? A Goblin? Any of the Dark Lord's minions? You cannot tell me true that you would spare their life because they hold life within them."

Boromir had to look away, caught by her statement, by the truth in it.

"I heard said once that no man can determine your worth, only you yourself can," she sighed, "Clearly whoever said that has never been one of the Nameless," she looked at Boromir, "We are worthless."

"Menna…"

"I knew what being Nameless meant when I became one," she cut in, shaking her head, "The shame I caused my family, the value I held to them? Being one of the Nameless is all I deserve."

To have no name, no family, no value or worth. That was to be a Nameless. Your name stripped from you, your legacy removed, to have no one in this world care for you. To never be trusted for what you must have done to be cast out in such a manner that your own blood did not wish for you to be theirs any longer. She knew what it meant to be the Nameless, she had lived as one for more years than she cared to think on. She knew her place, she knew her worth, as Eomer had put it, and it was nowhere and nothing.

"You cannot give your life to someone whose life means nothing," Menna continued, glancing at Boromir again, "Else your life will come to mean nothing. And you have more to do in this world than nothing."

Boromir's jaw clenched as he looked away, a glint of gold catching his eye as he gazed down at the belt he wore around his waist, the one given to him by the Lady Galadriel. She said it was to remind him of his worth in this world, perhaps Menna was right, perhaps he had more to do than what he was.

And so he swore to himself, before this quest was done, he would prove to Menna her own worth, remind her of it, just as the Lady Galadriel had him.

"I am certain you are not used to hearing this," Boromir spoke after a long pause of silence, "But you are wrong."

"Oh?" Menna gave a small snort, her eyebrow quirking up, though she sounded more amused than offended.

"Aye," he agreed, "The Nameless do not choose to be what they are," he pointed out, "They may have no importance in a story, but I cannot believe that is the fate you are destined for."

Menna could only stare at him a moment, looking startled, for he had spoken nearly the same words she had heard the Lady Galadriel say in her mind so long ago.

She opened her mouth to try and counter, but could not find the words, nor did it appear she would have a chance to, for they had just neared the edge of the Forest as it opened up back to the plains of Rohan. They could see the three horses they had been given still standing there, tethered to a branch and loyally awaiting their new masters.

"One stage of your journey is over, another begins," Gandalf spoke, "War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed," he let out a piercing whistle, which was answered soon after but a neigh in the distance.

They watched, Menna moving a little closer to Aragorn, when a white horse appeared, majestic and strong, trotting towards them.

"Wonderful," Menna murmured so lowly only Aragorn could hear her, "Another horse."

Aragorn could only chuckle quietly at her reaction. He had not said a word to the others about her fear of horses, though from her reaction and the manner in which she clung to him will riding earlier, he was certain they had guessed it. Though they at least had the decency not to speak of it.

"That is one of the Mearas," Legolas breathed, sounding truly awed, "Unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

"Wonderful," Menna amended, "An intelligent, stronger, and faster wild horse."

As though hearing her words and her displeasure, the horse paused in its trotting, moving past the others and clearly heading for Gandalf…to look at her and nudge her in the shoulder with its snort, causing her to nearly scramble back into Aragorn's chest to try and escape it. The horse seemed as pleased with her reaction as she did with it being there, letting out a snort, before moving on and over to Gandalf for the man to pat its neck.

"Shadowfax," Gandalf smiled at it, "He's the lord of all horses and he's been my friend through many dangers."

"He has let you mount him?" Menna seemed genuinely startled at that, hearing more in Gandalf's words, "Mearas bear no one but the King of the Mark and his sons."

Gandalf just sent her a wink as he mounted the horse, bareback, and began to trot off towards the plains.

Aragorn dragged out checking the saddle of his horse, until Legolas and Gimli, and Boromir, had all mounted their horses and moved to follow. He glanced over at Menna, "It will not get any easier," he reminded her, getting on the horse and leading it over to a nearby fallen log, maneuvering it so its back was to Menna and she wouldn't have to see much of the horse as she got on.

"My grip will not get any looser either," she shot back as she took a breath and half launched herself up onto the log and onto the horse, hoping if she did so quickly she wouldn't have to think about how she was on a horse.

"I will be sure to ask Gandalf if he might have a way to heal my ribs then," Aragorn replied easily.

"You speak as though the pain you endure from my grip is not as much an inconvenience as it is."

He unconsciously moved one of his hands to rest on top of hers as they locked in front of him, "It is no inconvenience to bring comfort to another."

Menna smiled behind him, her forehead resting between his shoulders, "You say that now," she murmured, "Wait until I end up breaking a rib."

Aragorn merely chuckled, before kicking the horse on and after the others.

A/N: So a little teaser for Black Panther in this chapter, anyone spot the lines inspired by the movie? Virtual cookies to those who do :D

A little more about Arwen, because I honestly don't think I mentioned it or clarified it in the last story. In the movie, Arwen is the one who rescues Frodo, but in the books it is not her but another Elven hero. While I like that they made women more important in the movie, that was one where I was sort of a little let down. I liked the way they elaborated more on what Arwen and Aragorn talked about in flashbacks and dreams, because that felt very real to what they likely had been talking about given their situation. But I didn't get a 'fierce warrior woman' feel off Arwen in the books and so that change in the movie, while awesome, just felt out of place to me.

So in this story, while it does follow the movies more, I really just felt like that Arwen moment was out of place, and so here, it was NOT Arwen who rescued Frodo but the correct character from the book. Beyond that one scene of her with a sword and outrunning the enemy, we don't really see 'kickass warrior' from her but more soft-spoken, yet firm, noblewoman. So the remarks Aragorn makes here are in relation to how Arwen was depicted in the books but also taking into account aspects of the movie. If she was that kickass warrior woman, she would have certainly gone on the quest with them no matter what Aragorn said, so that's why I chose to go the route of reversing that scene in the movie to the original character it took place with.

I hope you liked the little moments with Aragorn and with Boromir and Menna :) I'm very excited to see all of them grow :)

Some notes on reviews...

We'll see a bit more about the Nameless in bits and pieces as the story goes on yup ;) As for the necklace, I can say one of the royalty of Rohan will have a question about it, but what Menna's answer will be might surprise the company ;)

We'll have to wait and see what's up with Eomer, was it recognition or suspicion? };)

We'll find out a little more on when Menna first became afraid of horses and why before the series is over ;)

Aww thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying the stories :D Don't feel shy, I love every review and reviewer ;)

Rohan will certainly be an interesting stay ;)

Lol, I could honestly see Menna at his coronation and him going 'believe me now?' and her just being like 'how much did you pay these people to go along with this?' lol :)


	4. Théoden King

Théoden King

Aragorn had never been more relieved that they had come to a stop in their quest as he was when they saw Edoras come into view and Gandalf led them to a slow. When the horse was moving, Menna's grip was remarkably tight, and he was quite sure she truly would end up cracking one of his ribs before this Quest was over. He briefly considered, during a particularly hard part of their gallop, asking if Legolas or Boromir might wish to take the girl on as a rider for a distance. But as quickly as the thought had come, it had disappeared. Menna appeared to have trusted him with her secret of her fear of horses, and while he was certain the others had noticed something was wrong, they had not said a thing about it. He did not wish to force her to reveal herself to the others when she clearly did not even wish for him to have known in the beginning.

And, as quickly as the thought had left him, an image of Menna on a horse behind either men lingered in his mind for far longer than it should have. Part of him, in the back of his mind, could admit he did not want Menna to ride with another partner. A large part of his mind did not want to admit to why that might be, not when his heart and mind were so conflicted, so he focused his thoughts on other things. At the moment, it was in regards to what they should do and how they should proceed once they truly reached the center of Rohan and confronted its king.

While he knew his thoughts should consider Théoden, what ought happen when they came face to face with the man, instead his thoughts lingered more on the customs of his kingdom than the king himself. This was a realm famed for its horses, they were sure to be everywhere, and he wasn't sure how Menna would handle herself or react to being surrounded by the beasts, though there would be more people around, and hopefully there would be enough room and distance between her and any other horse she might have come in contact with. Still, he vowed to himself to remain close to her should she need assistance.

Aragorn took a deep breath once they had completely stopped, Menna's grip loosening just slightly as the horse stilled beneath her. He turned the horse to the side somewhat so that Menna could see the kingdom up ahead more than the other horses that surrounded her.

"Edoras," Gandalf began, "And the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong," he trotted just a few paces ahead of them, turning Shadowfax so he might look over his shoulder at them in warning, "Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here."

Aragorn braced himself, kicking the horse to start a trot after the others, heading towards the kingdom, when Menna's grip tightened once more.

"I did warn you," he could hear her mumble into his back, having felt him tense in her grip.

"That you did," he agreed, he had only himself to blame for this. And yet, he would take this pain and discomfort if it meant an easier ride for Menna, and, he told himself, if it meant saving his fellow company from having to experience the crushing grip Menna could use.

~8~

"We're nearing now," Aragorn spoke to Menna.

Menna took a deep breath, forcing herself to straighten on the horse and look up from where she had been hiding her face. It would not look odd to anyone observing her, how close she was sitting to Aragorn, nor how she was clutching him, however it would be quite noticeable how tense she was if she were hiding her face. From what Gandalf had said this was a land that had fallen to the darkness of Sauron, it would not do to display any sort of weakness where eyes could see and report back.

She couldn't help how she began to tremble now that she could see more of the horse around her and be reminded that she was on one. It was different when she could close her eyes and look away, she could pretend she was on a cart or something, anything, to pretend she wasn't on the horse. A dragon would be better than a horse! But with her eyes open and her head up she could see it, she couldn't pretend any longer.

She glanced down however when she felt Aragorn put a hand over one of hers gripped in front of him, a comfort small though it was.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to look up, turning their head to try and view as much of the scenery and people as she could. Perhaps if she could focus on something else other than the horse it would make this more bearable. Her gaze drifted up to Meduseld, the center of Edoras. she let out a breath when she saw a woman, with long blonde hair, dressed in a flowing white gown, stride out of the doors that lead to the hall. The woman paced along the side of the stones, coming to rest beside a pole with a black flag waving attached to it. What she could make out of the woman, she appeared to be middle-aged, perhaps even a few years older than herself. She could tell the woman was agitated even from a distance, in the way she moved and how she looked over the land below the hall.

A moment later the wind gust past, causing not just the woman's hair to drift in the breeze, but the black flag to detach and fly off, drifting down over the village until it landed in the grass just where she and Aragorn were passing. It drew Aragorn's attention as well, the two of them looking down at the black flag with a white horse embroidered into the center of it.

Menna looked up at the people of Edoras, everyone was silent, somber, dressed in black and staring at them in a wary manner as they rode on. She absently let go of Aragorn with one hand, the one that he was not clutching himself, a force of habit where she touched the necklace that hung about her neck, hidden under her cloak. It would be all too clear to anyone who saw it that it had come from one of Rohan for it was a black material with a white horse carved into it, almost identical to the flag that they had passed. She would have to be very careful how she proceeded, and what she told whomever might ask of her necklace.

Truly, she did not want to end up in a cell.

The horse began to maneuver up a small incline, jarring Menna out of her thoughts, her arm quickly returning around Aragorn at the sudden movement. She couldn't help but feel even more distressed. The nearer they came to the hall, the more she noticed that nearly every passing peasant was truly dressed in black, the black of mourning. Someone in this kingdom had passed, someone important, but surely it was not the king they had come to assist, nor was it the White Lady of Rohan nor her banished brother. There were only a handful more it could be, and none of them were any Rohan could afford to lose.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli muttered, though loudly enough for them to hear him.

"It _is_ a graveyard," Menna spoke, "Can you not see they are in mourning?"

Aragorn glanced over his shoulder at her, and then back to the solemn people that surrounded them, noting for the first time that they were indeed dressed in mourning attire. He looked up towards the main hall, but could only see the guards standing there. He shook his head a moment later when Gandalf brought his horse to still, the others gathering around him as they quickly dismounted. Not even Menna's quick scramble off the back of the horse with enough to earn him a smile given that he was now aware the village had lost someone dear to them. Now was not a time for smiles and laughs, nor would it be one anytime soon. They still had Théoden king to deal with.

The company glanced at each other, beginning to climb up the stairs towards the hall, Gandalf in the lead. They had only made it to the top, not a step closer to the door, when they were stopped by the two guards stationed there.

"Ah..." Gandalf began, hunching more as the guards approached.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame," the first guard spoke, sounding both regretful and dutiful at the same time, "By order of Gríma Wormtongue."

"You take orders from a man called worm-tongue?" Menna couldn't help but inquire incredously.

Aragorn tilted his head in agreement of her question, anyone who held the name Wormtongue was not a man he would easily trust or follow.

"Aye," the guard replied, though this time it was clear to all of them that he did not enjoy that fact.

Gandalf, however, nodded in understanding and signaled to them to surrender their weapons. Aragorn handed over his sword and a knife or two, Legolas his own knives and his bow and arrows. Gimli reluctantly turned his axes over to the guards while Boromir respectfully withdrew his sword and a knife of his own to pass on.

"Menna?" Aragorn spoke quietly, ensuring the guards could not hear her name and react to her status as one of the Nameless, when he noticed she made no move to remove her weapons.

Menna let out a breath and looked at him, "Forgive me," she began, reluctantly removing her pack from her back and attempting to maneuver the leather strap off of her without needing to remove her cloak at the same time, "I have not parted with my weapons since I obtained them," she glanced over at the two guards, "I do not like this," she spoke, but handed over the strip of leather that held her knives, pulling a few out of her belt and boots in the process.

Boromir was quick to elbow Gimli in the side when the Dwarf opened his mouth to remind her she also had knives in her pack, silencing him. If they could enter the hall with even the smallest of knives to assist them should things turn worse, they would take every advantage they could get. The guards seemed to assume no one would keep more weapons in their pack, for they were meant to be worn and easily accessible.

Menna slung the pack onto her back once more, the guards seeming none the wiser to look in them for any more knives.

"Your staff," was all the guards said when they looked the group over, referring more to Gandalf.

"Hmmm?" he hummed, looking from his staff to the guards, "Oh. You would not part an old man from his walking stick?"

Menna was quite grateful the guards were not looking at her any longer, but focused on Gandalf, for she doubted she had managed to hide her smile at the innocent way he looked to the guards quickly enough. He was truly playing the role of a feeble old man, anything to get his staff, an outlet for his power, into the room with him. If Sauron had hold of the king of Rohan as deeply as Gandalf clearly feared, he would need every asset available to him to free the man from the hold.

The guards hesitated for a moment, glancing between each other before the head guard nodded and gestured for them to follow him into the Hall. Gandalf sent a small wink at Aragorn and Menna, following the guard in, leaning heavily on Boromir for more of an air of an old man.

The company slowly entered the hall of the king. Finding it even more solemn and grim than the village outside. It was dark, with dim lighting, dead silent. And, in the middle of it, sat what could only be the king.

Menna frowned when she caught sight of the figure sitting on the throne, "That is not him, it _cannot_ be," she murmured, only Aragorn who stood beside her seeming to hear, "That cannot be the king."

The person sitting on the throne was paler than death, hunched forward and seeming too feeble to rule. His hair was long and white, his eyes, even in the dimness seemed to be almost hollow. They were an unnatural blue, cloudy, unable to truly take in the sight before him. He was wearing an old, thick cloak, as though he were cold and truly she could see him faintly trembling. Though she could not be certain if it was from a chill or weakness. In an odd, despairing way she hoped it was the latter. For the man to be so weak, yet struggle so hard to keep upright, it showed a determination was still there. It showed a part of the man who had once been king remained.

Hopefully all Gandalf needed was a single piece to free him.

Menna swallowed hard as she stepped further in with the others, Gandalf and Boromir leading the way towards the man on his throne.

And that was when she saw him, a person who had been creeping in the shadows beside the throne. A pale man, dressed all in black, with greasy black hair and no eyebrows, almost as unnaturally pale as the king. The way he was whispering into the king's ear, there was no doubt this was the one called Wormtongue.

Menna's jaw clenched as she was forced to watch the king lean over to hear the man clearer, each word sinking into the king's mind. It was a travesty and she couldn't help but shiver at the coldness that flowed through the room. It was similar to the Ring, but not as powerful, yet it was clear a darkness had taken hold of the king, it could practically be felt.

"My lord," the whisperings of the Wormtongue were even clearer when they came to stand before the king. Nay, the man was not even pretending to be quiet in his hissings. He was speaking more pronounced, he wished for them to hear what he was saying, to see the sway he held over Théoden King, "Gandalf the Grey is coming. He's a herald of woe."

The way Théoden nodded and turned to Gandalf with wariness on his face was heartbreaking to see, it was clear nothing remained of the king's own mind, only the sayings of the Wormtonge

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf spoke, making no sign at all that he was affected by the whisperings. In truth, he likely expected it. Grima knew of his status as a wizard, it would make sense he should try to free Théoden from the dark magic possessing him, the Wormtongue would wish to get rid of him and prevent him attempting such a feat.

Menna looked over when Aragorn put a hand on her arm to still her from following Gandalf closer to the king. The rest of the company was standing back, glancing around the hall and at the hostile occupants, who were watching them with equal suspicion. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard footsteps to see a group of men had followed them in step, wishing to surround them. She caught Aragorn's eye out of the corner of hers, giving him a faint nod, before she slowly moved to her knee and moved her pack off her back to begin sifting through. Aragorn and Gimli stepped closer, keeping the contents of it blocked from view.

She glanced up when she heard Wormtongue hiss to Théoden, "He's not welcome!"

Théoden gave a soft nod, "Why should I…" he began to wheeze at Gandalf, mimicking Wormtongue's words, "Welcome you, Gandalf…Stormcrow?"

Menna had to look away when the king turned to Wormtongue for affirmation, how far kings could fall.

"A just question, my liege," Wormtongue praised, stepping away from the throne to approach Gandalf himself, "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

Seeing one who ought be a mere adviser at best speak to him as though he were the king's voice was too much for Gandalf, who cried out, "Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" he lifted his staff at Wormtongue, who backed away in horror and fear.

"His staff!" Wormtongue cried, looking to the guards, "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

Menna turned in that instant, her hand gripping the throwing knives Galadriel had gifted her and hurled one at a man just behind her who had raised his sword to attack, catching his arm against a pillar of the hall, his sleeve caught by her knife, a truly lucky shot as she had not practiced much with those particular knives and could have easily hit his hand instead. The other hostile men began to attack, going after the others of the company, who quickly engaged in a fist fight as Gandalf dealt with the king.

Menna tried her best to help where she could, about to hurl another knife when a man caught her from behind, grabbing both her arms and pinning them to her sides. She grunted as a man ran at her ahead, leaning back and bracing herself on the one who had gotten her to kick out at the other man. Unfortunately the one who had grabbed her hadn't expected that and stumbled back, landing on the ground with a huff, the wind knocked out of him from the way Menna landed on him. She didn't hesitate to roll herself back to her feet, kicking the sword out of the man's hold in the process. She looked over at the other guards, the ones who had followed them in from the doors, to see the lead guard holding the other back from interfering, clearly he knew something had been amiss with the king and Wormtongue was to blame. She gave the man a nod of thanks and resumed her efforts to assist the others.

"Théoden, son of Thengel," Gandalf began to intone, "Too long have you sat in the shadows."

Menna turned, hearing a groaning noise and threw her next knife at Grima Wormtongue, catching the end of his cloak to the crack between the stones of the floor, giving Gimli enough time to catch him and step on his chest, holding him down from escaping.

"I would stay still, if I were you," Gimli growled down at the man.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf continued, gesturing with his hand at the king, his eyes closed in concentration, "I release you from the spell!"

There was a moment of stillness and silence, before Théoden began laughing menacingly, for nothing had happened. Gandalf opened his eyes, seeming genuinely surprised that it had not worked. Sauron's hold must have been deeper and built up over more time than he thought.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" Théoden cackled madly.

Which only served to incite Gandalf who threw down the grey, Elven cloak to reveal his stark white attire beneath. The brightness of it was nearly blinding in the dimness of the hall, and painful for Théoden to look at with his cursed eyes for it appeared to cast about it a shining light.

Menna looked over at the king who seemed thrown back in his throne, pressing himself as far back as possible as though to avoid the light.

Gandalf gripped his staff tightly, pointing it at the king as he approached, "I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound!"

There was another flash of white, not as bright or powerful as Gandalf's reveal, but noticeable in the grey that surrounded them. Menna looked over to see the woman who had been pacing earlier rush into the room. She took one look at what was happening and hurried for Théoden to help him. Menna and Aragorn reacted quickly, reaching out as she tried to pass them and grabbing her, holding her back.

"Wait," Aragorn whispered to her.

"He is trying to free the king of dwimmerlaik," Menna murmured to her, her gaze returning to Gandalf, not seeing the woman look to her in startlement before she too focused on watching the wizard work to free the king of this trick of Sauron's magic.

Théoden began to speak, but it was clear it was not his voice coming through but that of another, echoing over his words, "If I go…Théoden dies."

Gandalf was not swayed by the words, by the dark promise of Saruman, for he moved closer, striking out his staff sharply at the man, causing the king to fly back into his chair once more, held there by the man down with his power, "You did not kill me, you will not kill him!"

"Rohan is mine!" the thing possessing Théoden roared.

"Be gone!" Gandalf banished, striking his staff out once more as Théoden lunged at him, smiting the spell that held his mind imprisoned.

Théoden was thrown back onto the chair, sagging down into it, his head lulled to the side. Menna tightened her grip on the woman beside her, everyone staring at the king as he ceased to move.

But a moment later, he let out an agonized moan, slumping forward in his throne. The woman wrenched herself out of the hold placed on her, rushing to the king and dropping to her knees before him, reaching out to catch him before he could fall to the ground. Slowly, the man began to lift his head, a sure sign of his strength returning to him. All watched as the effects of the dark magic began to fade. His hair began to lighten to a blonde, still with wisps of gray in it, but nowhere near as white as it had been, it shortened as well, revealing more of his face. The wrinkles began to disappear, the paleness of his skin pinkening to a healthy peach. His eyes cleared to a deep blue as opposed to the unnatural, blinded paleness it had once been. The man stared at the woman before him, his expression radiating confusion but also recognition though he struggled to place her.

"I know your face," he spoke, his eyes roving over her features, "Éowyn…" he named her, "Éowyn."

Menna couldn't help but smile even as the woman burst into tears before the king. They were surely tears of a great joy and relief. She blinked a few times, feeling tears prickling the corner of her own eyes at the sight. Here was a man so imprisoned by Sauron's power, now freed. Here was a land, a kingdom, now free of the darkness that had plagued it for so long. It gave her hope for the future of Middle Earth.

It was then that the king seemed to realize there were more guests in his hall than those of his own people, and he looked up. He squinted at Gandalf, the blinding white power within him lessening so the king might see his face, "Gandalf?"

Gandalf smiled at the man again, "Breathe the free air again, my friend."

Menna looked to her left when she felt a hand on her shoulder to see Boromir beside her. The man was looking at her in concern, but she offered him a smile, reaching up to place a hand on his, squeezing for a moment before releasing her hold and focusing on the scene before her once more. She knew he had likely glimpse the tears she was holding back, but there was nothing to be sorrowful of, this was a good thing to witness.

She did not see how Aragorn glanced over at Boromir for his action, before returning his attention to the king before them with a clenched jaw.

Gandalf held up his staff and it was as though the light from it began to cast the darkness from the room as well. Light reentered the chamber, filling it with the streams of sunlight, allowing more of the king's rejuvenation to be seen.

Théoden stood, shaking somewhat but Éowyn rushed to assist him, helping him stand strong before his people as he addressed them, "Dark have been my dreams of late…" he looked down at the hand clutching Éowyn's, before turning his attention to his other hand, his right hand, as it trembled just holding it before him.

Menna felt her smile grow sad at the sight, how weak the king must have grown while under the spell of Sauron.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better..." Gandalf spoke, seeing the worry and fear, the regret, in Thoeden's face, "If they grasped your sword."

That was all that needed to be said as the head guard rushed forward, the king's sword in his hold, nestled in its sheath. He knelt down, holding the sword up to his king. Théoden looked down at it, hesitating to take hold of it, fearful of his body's new feeble nature. But a look to Éowyn and his people surrounding him, and he steeled himself. He reached down, grasping the hilt of the blade tightly and pulled it out of the sheath slowly, gazing upon it and how it shined in the light.

In the distraction of seeing the king restored, Wormtongue tried to escape, but it was not easy to sneak past a Dwarf, nor do so when one's cloak was still stabbed into the floor. Gimli was quick to yank the man back, Menna shaking herself out of her thoughts and turning to collect her knife from the cloak as well.

The action drew Théoden's attention over to his ill-giving adviser, his expression growing harsh as he himself strode over to the man, yanking him from Gimli's hold and casting him out of the hall at his own hand. The company and the guards followed to see Wormtongue falling down the stairs that led to the great hall, Théoden standing on the stairs and glaring down at him as the other villagers gathered to see what was happening.

The Wormtongue moved onto his knees from the fall, looking up at Théoden imploringly, speaking beseechingly as he cried out, "I've only ever served you, my lord!"

Théoden advanced on Wormtongue, his sword gripped tightly in his hand, looking for all the world as though he were ready to run the traitor through, "Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!"

"Send me not from your side," Wormtongue begged, looking as pitiful as anything Menna had ever seen in her life, and yet there was no compassion for such a snake.

Théoden merely raised his sword, ready to strike the man down where he knelt, when Aragorn rushed forward to still his hand, "No, my lord!" he implored, "No, my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account."

Théoden stared down at Wormtongue as the man pouted up at him, as though it would soften his heart against such a fate. But Théoden lowered his blade not for Wormtongue's sake, but for the words Aragorn spoke. Too much blood had been spilled, this was not how he wished to return to his throne. His lapse, his trust, in this sniveling man had already cost him much, had led to death and destruction throughout his realm. Killing him would do little for anyone, for it was not Wormtongue who gave the commands, but himself for repeating the man's words. HE would need to be the one to work to restore his people, not Wormtongue.

The moment the sword was lowered, Wormtongue scrambled to his feet and rushed away, pushing his way through the crowd in his haste to escape, "Get out of my way!"

The head guard would not allow Wormtongue's departure to be the center of attention long as he turned to Théoden and dropped to one knee, shouting, "Hail, Théoden king!"

The crowd that had gathered quickly did the same, moving to a knee as they paid homage to their king. Menna glanced at the rest of the company, nodding to them as they too moved to a knee in respect of the king of this part of Middle Earth.

Théoden looked at his people, ignoring Wormtongue riding away on a horse, and moved to return to the hall. Though when he looked upon Éowyn smiling down at him from the top of the stairs, his thoughts turned to something else, "Where is Théodred?" he asked, "Where is my son?"

Menna glanced at Éowyn, seeing the way the woman's smile fell, how the tears in her eyes grew to be those of sadness, her expression morphing into one of heartbreak. And she knew the answer, surely everyone did by now.

It pained her heart to learn such a thing, that the king, once so lost and now restored, that a home freed of the darkness, would still have such a sorrow laid upon them.

Théodred, son of Théoden, was dead.

A/N: This is quite a bit later than normal, sorry :( Giving a bit of warning that the stories this week may be posted later than I normally post in a day due to some things coming up with my family, not bad things, just time consuming, but it may affect the update times a bit :)

For this chapter though, poor Théoden :( I hate Grima for all he did to the king, but I also feel a little disappointed in Théoden for falling for it. It's understandable, Grima has likely been there and whispering in his ear and working for the darkness for many, many years. Théoden would have trusted him and with such subtle magic at work, he wouldn't notice his own mind being taken over. But at some point you sort of have to ask how. His own son died and he barely reacted and how did no one just take the risk to kill Grima or call out to some one, the elves, for help :( And then the king wakes up and he's going to blame himself and mourn the loss of his son and get thrown into all this madness. And it's sort of a little unfair. He's been under Sauron's hold, through Saruman, for years and it's only NOW that Gandalf (or anyone) decides to help? :/ If Gandalf wasn't as powerful as the Grey, there were others he could have turned to for help :( Poor Théoden :(

On a lighter note, Menna seems to have a lot of opinions on what a king should be like, when it comes to Aragorn at least, we'll finally get to see her interact with one she 'knows' is a King. It may create some interesting times for Aragorn lol :)

And just a tiny note, for anyone reading who may be in the sort of NY area and might be planning to go to the Renaissance Faire, I'll probably be walking around there on the 1st of September with my 'Keep calm and put the kettle on' t-shirt so if you see me, feel free to say hi! ;D

Some notes on reviews...

Oh I know :) I took an entire seminar devoted to Tolkien and a large part of it was looking at how things happened and why, why were women written the way they were, what themes involving them were reflected in other sort of medieval stories :) It's sad to look back at a time where women were so invisible, though present, but interesting to see how they were truly important in the long run. Adaptations where they give more a role to women are always interesting to see :)

From what I know, there's nothing in Tolkien's trilogy that could allude to the Nameless, but there was an idea of an idea of sorts behind it lol. I took a medieval civilizations class and one thing that stuck out to me was the notion of the forest. Often in medieval literature, those who would go to the forest, or outside their civilization, were considered outlaws or departed from civilization, like Robin Hood, they give up their claims to normal life. I sort of took that idea and expanded it, to those cast out of their civilizations and forced to go to the woods and stone, because they broke some sort of law or committed some travesty that they could not be forgiven. Their names are taken from them, their legacy, their family, as punishment :( Menna is an interesting case, because it seems like she would have been but a child when she 'committed a crime' but at other times she alludes to choosing to become Nameless, we'll have to wait and see what the whole story is ;)

Lol, Menna and Boromir are going to have a very strong bond and friendship between them after these events. Even after Boromir (maybe) fulfills his life-debt, that sense of loyalty and gratitude will still remain :)

Very interesting theory and you bring up some very good points ;) I can say, before this series is over, we'll find out exactly who Menna's family was before she became Nameless and why she chose to become one ;)


	5. The King's Will

The King's Will

Menna slowed to a stop when she came upon the tomb of Théodred, to see Théoden and Gandalf were there, quietly speaking. There had been a funeral arranged for Théodred earlier, Éowyn had sung a mourning rite for him, the people gathering to pay their respects. She had stood to the back, with Aragorn and the others, but she found herself restless and had returned to the tomb, three small, white simbelmynë flowers in her hand to place on the grave. She hadn't expected anyone else to be there, the mourners had all departed, each having left their own flowers with the tomb.

"No parent should have to bury their child," Théoden was saying, weeping in the privacy of his conversation with Gandalf.

She nearly stepped back to allow him more of it, not wishing to intrude as he had the right, more than anyone else, to remain at the tomb as long as he wished. But there was little she could do to make her way back without misstep and drawing attention to herself.

"He was strong in life," Gandalf spoke, trying to comfort the king, "His spirit will find its way to the halls of your fathers. Westu hál. Ferðu, Théodred, Ferðu."

He turned to depart, stilling when he saw Menna standing there in her cloak, clutching the flowers, "Menna?"

"Gandalf," she greeted with a nod.

"Menna?" Théoden repeated as he too turned, frowning at her deeply before turning to Gandalf, "You hold one of the Nameless in your company?"

Menna looked away only a moment when the king rested his hand on the hilt of his sword at his side, before she took a breath and looked back at him, her chin raised. It was expected, she needed to remind herself, this reaction. Being around the others so long, seeing how they accepted her, trusted her, there was a time or two when she could forget what she was, rare though they were. Éomer had reminded her, and now Théoden King was too.

"I assure you, old friend," Gandalf rested a hand on Théoden's shoulder, "She has more than proven her worth and earned my trust."

Théoden eyed her critically, "Why come you here?"

"To pay my respects to your anborn," she answered, "Many know he was truly baldor, even one worth little would spare what they could to honor the dead."

Théoden looked down at the flowers in her hand and back to her, "You are not of Rohan and yet you know our words."

"Aye," she nodded, "I have lost my home, my family, but I have passed through your kingdom in the past. I know of you, Théoden King, and your family. You did not deserve another loss."

"No," Théoden agreed with a sigh, looking away. He had lost so much already, he had four sisters once, more sister-sons and daughters. All gone now, taken by illness or Orc attacks or loss, only Éomer and Éowyn remained and he knew not where Éomer was.

Menna slowly approached, keeping sure to be on Gandalf's side as she allowed the flowers to fall to the tomb, to the layer of other flowers below. Gandalf gave her a soft smile for her compassion, before he turned to lead them away from the grave, stopping when he spotted two children on horseback in the distance, a boy and a younger girl. It was clear they had been through a trauma, even from so far away they appeared worn and dirty. It was made all the more obvious when the boy collapsed, falling off the horse.

Menna was off, hopping down the rocks with ease to rush to their aid, Gandalf and Théoden close behind her.

~8~

The two children had quickly been brought into the Golden Hall of the king, where Éowyn had seen to giving them food to eat and blankets to warm them. The children had opened up to her, explaining how their village on the outskirts of the kingdom had been attacked, all the while the king, Aragorn, Boromir, Menna, and Gandalf had joined them.

"They had no warning," Éowyn sighed as she looked at the king, "They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree."

"Where's mama?" the young girl asked her as Éowyn moved back to her side to soothe her.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash," Gandalf told the king, "All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children," he leaned in to place a hand on Théoden's chair and Menna could only frown at how he gazed at Gandalf's hand warily, as though he expected Gandalf to cast a spell upon him to get what he wished, "You must fight."

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Aragorn reminded him, "Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

Théoden let out a long sigh, shaking his head, "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us. I know what it is that you want of me," he looked to them, "But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is already upon you," Boromir argued, "It has been from the moment Rohan's king was targeted by the dark lord's magic."

"When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn nor Boromir nor Gandalf, was king of Rohan," Théoden spoke, standing up to face them.

"It must be his decision," Menna spoke up, thoughtful, as she looked to the men who turned to her, "He has had his choices taken from him for too long. What comes next must be the king's will."

Aragorn looked at her for her words, as though not having realized it till she spoke. It was true, in a sense, pushing Théoden to do as they bid was no better than Grima Wormtongue controlling his mind with magic. Just because they wished it did not mean it was their right to force Théoden's hand for it. Not after the man had been so controlled as of late.

"Then what is the king's decision?" Gandalf asked, looking to Théoden expectantly.

~8~

Menna, Aragorn, Gandalf, and the others walked through the village, the order had been given by the king that the city was to empty. All who dwelt there were to gather only the provisions they needed, nothing more, and make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. And now the people were doing just that, moving about and gathering their belongings in preparation for their departure.

The small group of travelers were heading for the stables upon Gandalf's request. The king was convinced his sister-son would be too far away to help, Gandalf did not agree.

"Helm's Deep!" Gimli was huffing as they went on, "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?"

"I believe that IS what the king is trying to do," Boromir remarked, "This is how he will defend them."

"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn spoke, though from the sound of his words he was of the same mind as Gimli, that this was not the best course of action to take. Théoden was doing what he thought was best, but was it truly?

"Helm's Deep has saved them in the past," Menna remarked absently, "It is the largest stronghold of Rohan."

"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf argued as they entered the stables, "Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses HAVE to hold."

Aragorn nodded, "They will hold."

Gandalf gave him a grim smile and a nod, turning to where Shadowfax was held, reaching out to pat him, "The Grey Pilgrim...that's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth and now I have no time. With luck, my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East."

Aragorn waited till Gandalf mounted the horse, before opening the stall gates, "Go."

Legolas jumped back as the horse reared and raced off, disappearing over the plains of Rohan.

"This will not end well," Legolas murmured as they watched the white specks fade.

"Then we must do our best to aid where we can," Boromir countered, reaching out to pat Gimli on the shoulder as he passed, heading out of the stables with the Dwarf and Elf, Aragorn and Menna following behind.

"You are in agreement of Théoden's order?" Aragorn asked her quietly, having gotten that sense about her from her earlier remarks.

"I believe that no one knows what is best for a kingdom or a people more than its king," Menna said simply.

Aragorn considered her words a moment, "I do not know what is best for my kingdom."

"I am still not certain you HAVE a kingdom to worry for," Menna didn't hesitate to say, "And if you did, you would learn. You would have advisers and others to guide you. Théoden has ruled this kingdom for many years."

"And a number of them were spent under the control of Saruman."

"He was still there," Menna murmured, "Part of him was still there. It had to be, fighting, enduring."

"But how much? How long has he been under Saruman's thrall? How much does he truly know of what is coming?"

"How can you judge what is best for a people you have never lived among?" she countered.

"I have," he informed her, "I have served in the army of Thengel King."

"But not of Théoden," Menna glanced at him, "Which means you have not lived in this kingdom since. Years, decades, near two score. You have less right to remark on what the man ruling his people chooses to do to protect them."

Aragorn observed her a moment, somewhat perplexed by the vehemence in her defense of Théoden and his choices, "If I have offended you, Menna, I did not mean to…"

"No," she let out a breath, shaking her head, "It is just…this is a realm long cast into shadow, with a king held prisoner by a cruel master and a people suffering. I do not think you understand what it means to see it freed. To know a home could be saved in such a way from such a long lingering strain."

Aragorn fell silent, understanding now. He did not know much of Menna's homeland, only that it had fallen to the darkness encroaching upon Middle Earth. To see a land, likely so similar to her home, be freed? To know it was even possible after so long? It was clear to him why she so badly wished for Théoden to be the king he once was, the strong man who could lead his people.

It gave her hope.

"When we have seen Rohan safe," he began, "Perhaps we can journey to your land. If Rohan can win her freedom, be restored in such a way, your home may too."

Menna was quiet a long while, looking around at the people as they hurried to prepare for their departure. Before she shook her head, "You speak as though I could return there once this war has ended."

And indeed he had. To her, his words, his tone, the way he said it, it sounded more as though he wished for her to be restored to her home as well. That in freeing her land, she would be free to return to it. But she knew, more than any, it was not to be. No one who had not lived the life of a Nameless would ever understand. Once you were one, there was no going back. It was not a punishment easily or quickly given.

"But you are wrong," she continued, "I can never return there, Aragorn. They are not my people, it is not my home any longer. I would never be accepted."

"Surely if you were the one to free it, to bring the aid that relinquished the dark one's hold on the land?"

She gave him a rueful smile, "I appreciate your hope, but I must find another place to call home."

They walked along a few more paces, "You may not think I understand, and I grant I have not endured all you have, but I do understand what it is to look for a home and not find it."

He had traveled many places, none had truly felt like _home_. He had been raised on stories that Gondor was his home of homes, yet he had traveled through it, served in the armies while under a different name. It did not feel like home. Nor had Rohan, nor Lothlorien, nor Rivendell even. They had all felt temporary or a different realm than one meant for him. His life had been spent among wood and stone, a large part of it in travelling, as a Ranger. He felt more at home in the forests than he did in any city.

But it was not a true home. He searched for it, but could not seem to find it, and there was a reluctance to call Gondor his home just yet. To call the kingdom his home, to him, meant an acceptance of his destiny and crown, to be tied to one place for the rest of his days. A home should not be a prison.

"Perhaps when this war is over, we shall both find a home," Menna murmured.

Aragorn glanced at her, pushing a pang from his heart, deafening himself to a whisper in his mind that said, perhaps, he was already on the cusp of finding it not in a place but in a person.

~8~

Aragorn made his way through Théoden's hall, in search of Menna, stepping out of it to look in the area around the structure. He had passed a room where Éowyn had been practicing with a sword. He had not been surprised she knew how to handle one, the Shieldmaidens of Rohan were famed, having learned that those without sword could still die upon them. He had been mildly surprised that a woman of such noble blood would be taught such skills as opposed to those required of court and diplomacy. Éowyn had spoken briefly of how she didn't fear pain or death, but more a cage or a life without valor.

He could not help but think of Menna during his encounter with the princess of Rohan. A woman equally skilled with a blade, though that of a different make, a woman who had no title nor recognition to her name yet had proven herself to have valor to spare. He had found himself excusing himself from Éowyn's presence to seek Menna out, wherever she may be.

When he did find her, however, he was not certain what he felt. He was unsurprised to see her, still in her cloak, hurling the knives the Lady Galadriel had given her at a target set up, one of the few in a small field near the main hall. He knew she had not had much time to practice with them, favoring her familiar weapons, which had been returned to all of them. Yet he was surprised to see she was not alone, though he ought not be. Boromir had become her shadow since he had recovered. Where she was, Boromir was not far from her.

He was sitting on a small barrel, sharpening his sword, though his gaze kept drifting to Menna as she threw knife after knife at the target.

From what Aragorn could see, she had quickly gained a familiarity with the new knives. He did not expect anything less. Not only had Menna proven skilled with the knives she collected, but those of Elven make were always of the best craftsmanship. He had no doubt she would quickly gain mastery over those blades.

"Aragorn," Boromir greeted as he drew nearer.

Aragorn gave him a nod, though Menna turned at the call, "How go the preparations?" she asked.

"Well enough," he spoke, "The people should be ready to depart at first light."

Menna nodded, "That is good," she remarked, moving to gather her knives from the target, checking them over as she did so, though there was no imperfections to see.

"The men are preparing their weapons should any ill tidings befall us," Boromir reported.

"As are the Shieldmaidens," Aragorn added, "I passed the princess, Éowyn, practicing with her sword."

Menna yanked the last knife out, "Éowyn is a shieldmaiden?"

"Aye."

"Is that odd?" Boromir glanced between them, not sure why Menna seemed startled.

"I did not think the king would allow the daughter of his sister to learn such dangerous skills," Menna said simply, glancing away and down at her knife.

"I do not believe the king was in any position to disagree with her desires," Aragorn reminded her. The man had not even noticed his own son had died, he doubted the king would have been any wiser to the princess learning the ways of a shieldmaiden.

"She must be quite skilled with a sword then," Menna mused, cleaning off a smudge of her knife on the bottom of her tunic.

"She is commendable," Aragorn agreed.

"It would be a great offense not to expect the king's blood to be skilled with a blade," Boromir stated absently, turning his weapon over to examine it.

"A sword," Menna corrected.

"Pardon?" Boromir looked to her.

"It would be a great offense not to expect the king's blood to be skilled with a _sword_ ," she repeated his words, "The warriors of Rohan are famed for their skill with a horse and sword. It is no mere 'blade' that gains honor, respect, and pride among the Eorlingas."

"They are true horse lords," Aragorn agreed, looking out at the kingdom.

"Aye," Menna murmured, "They are," she glanced over at the two men, "If you shall excuse me, I wish to retire for the night. I bid you rest as well, we will have a long journey come morning. 20 leagues as fast as can be managed."

She gave them a final nod before stepping away from them and towards Théoden's hall, where he had offered them room for the night.

Aragorn couldn't help but frown when he saw how her shoulders slumped more, her head bowed, troubled, as she walked away, "Boromir," he called, still gazing after her, "Was Menna in poor spirits?"

"Hmm?" Boromir looked up at the man who would one day be his king, glancing between his expression to the object of his focus and back, "No. She was fairly concentrated on her practice, but in no more poor spirits that I noticed."

Aragorn nodded vaguely, staring off after her, not noticing the expression that grew across Boromir's face at his attention being so completely captured.

~8~

It was as Aragorn had said, at first light the people of Rohan began their trek from Edoras to Helm's Deep, Théoden leading the way. Aragorn could tell, however, that Menna was pleased about this journey for a far different reason. While Rohan was famed for its horses, not every individual was able to maintain one and a number of people were making the journey on foot. He had opted to walk beside her, Legolas and Boromir nearer to Théoden on horses as they spoke with him about the defenses of Helm's Deep for a clearer picture of what they would have to work with.

Gimli had surprised them by jumping at the chance to ride upon Aragorn's horse for him. It was not often one thought to spy a Dwarf upon a horse, yet given how much they had run over the past days, it did make sense that he would take the opportunity to rest his legs where he could. Éowyn had volunteered to walk with him, leading the horse by its reins for more support.

"It's true you don't see many Dwarf women," Gimli was regaling her with stories of his people, "And, in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance, ha ha, that they're often mistaken for Dwarf men!"

Menna shook her head at that, Éowyn smiling as she glanced back at them as though to ask if Gimli spoke truly. Aragorn gestured below his chin and mouthed, "It's the beards."

"And this," Gimli continued, not having noticed, "In turn, has given rise to the belief that there are no Dwarf women. And that Dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!" it was such an odd notion that Éowyn laughed gaily at it, "Which is of course ridiculous…whoa!"

"Gimli!" Menna called, hurrying over as the horse suddenly reared up and galloped away, pulling the reins loose from Éowyn. Gimli managed to hold on for a brief moment before he toppled over a few feet away and landed with a loud thump.

Aragorn moved to help, knowing Menna would not be willing to rush after the horse on her own, but Éowyn had already moved, familiar with the creatures as she was, and went for the horse when she saw Menna's direction was to Gimli.

"It's alright, it's alright," Gimli huffed as Menna helped him up, "Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate."

"I have no doubts it was," Menna teased lightly, brushing off a bit of dirt and grass from him.

Aragorn smiled lightly at the image before him, a weight lifting off his heart to see Menna smile and laugh, even if it was because of Gimli. She had seemed on edge, tense, burdened since they had entered Rohan. Nay, since they had encountered the banished soldiers. Only hours ago she had been low in spirits, not her lighthearted self. Some might have said that it was an effect of the company fracturing as it had, that the quest had become more real, that the dangers had diminished her efforts to keep things lighter.

But he knew that was not so. There had always been a melancholy to Menna, subtle though it was, masked by her efforts to keep others cheerful. Her drive to ensure others did not remain sad for long could only come from a sadness she too had felt, perhaps still felt, and wished to relieve in others. No, it was not the shock of their quest affecting her but something else.

He could not help but be relieved and take this moment to just gaze upon her smiling.

It truly was one of the more beautiful sights he had seen.

~8~

That night, once they had settled enough to rest, ready to make the last lengths of their journey come morning, Aragorn found himself unable to sleep. His thoughts just could not be quieted, stirred about by the warring taking place within his heart. He sighed, rising from his small bedroll and making his way out of the meager tent he had been given by Théoden, to rest outside it. He pulled his pipe from his pack and got to work lighting it, looking up at the stars as his thoughts drifted.

From the quest to Gandalf's return, from Théoden freed to the trek to Helm's Deep, from Arwen to Menna.

He shook his head at the last lingering thoughts, trying to cast them away, a guilt settling heavy within his soul.

"This is not a night for resting, it seems," a voice spoke and he looked up to see Boromir approaching, coming to sit beside him. He offered the man his pipe, but Boromir held up a hand to decline.

"Aye," Aragorn agreed, "I find my thoughts cannot be silenced."

"I, too, fear for morning light," Boromir sighed, "We should not have rested but pushed on."

"Aye."

Boromir glanced at him, realizing from Aragorn's expression that the man had not, in fact, been worrying over the same things he had, "What ails your mind, brother?"

Aragorn let out a long breath of smoke, "The wars to come," Aragorn said simply.

Boromir waited a moment longer for anything else to be said, but when Aragorn gave nothing else, he nodded, looking back out at the stars and the camp before them, "There are many," he mused, "Not all of a physical sense. The most trying, I've found, are the ones we must fight within ourselves."

"Every time I think I have come out victorious from one, another takes its place."

Boromir was quiet for a while more, before speaking, "When did you first begin to feel for Menna?"

Aragorn choked on the breath of smoke he'd just inhaled, causing Boromir to chuckle and pat his back in a poor attempt to help, "I know not what you mean," Aragorn managed to get out.

"Ah," Boromir murmured, "Then perhaps I was mistaken in reading the lingering glances you send her."

"You were."

"And the ways you find cause to touch her."

"Boromir."

"And how you seek out her company alone…"

"Enough," Aragorn cut in, giving Boromir a hard look, though he thanked the darkness that Boromir could not see how his cheeks heated at his words, "You speak out of turn, Boromir."

"Do I?" he hummed, not sounding remorseful or apologetic at all.

"Aye."

"Then my apologies, Aragorn, for my mistake," Boromir shrugged easily, "Though I must also thank you. Now that I know your heart does not hold Menna perhaps I shall go forward and offer a courtship."

"A courtship?" Aragorn turned to him, "Between you and Menna?"

"Aye. My life is irrevocably tied to hers, it would be a convenience if she…"

"Menna deserves more than a marriage of convenience!"

Boromir looked amused at the volume and edge in Aragorn's voice, "I agree," he remarked.

"Then why…"

"There was no other way to find the truth in your heart, brother, not when you so adamantly deny it yourself."

Aragorn looked away at that, "There is no truth to see. Menna has more than earned a partner whom she can love and who loves her despite her status. It is simple fact."

"Is it not also fact that you wish you could be this partner?"

"Boromir," he shot the man a warning look.

Boromir held up his hands, "I have seen the way you gaze at her, Aragorn, with the darkness we must one day face, time is too precious to deny love where it grows."

"It is not love, it cannot be."

"Why?"

"I have given my heart to Arwen," he spoke, looking out at the camp, "I have sworn my future to hers."

"Is she not to depart with her people?" Boromir countered, "She will be among them in the Grey Havens, and you here. You cannot be a king without a queen."

"And if my queen does not believe I am actually the king?"

"Then you _have_ thought of Menna as your queen?"

"No," Aragorn rubbed his head, "No. That is far too dangerous a path to journey."

"Arwen will depart, you have told me you ensured this. The people WILL demand a queen."

"One of the Nameless?"

"One who has fought beside her king to end this reign of terror Sauron has begun. One who did not turn away from the darkness but strove to ignite the light. One who has done more for Middle Earth than any other who would claim the heart of the king. She will more than have earned her worth when this is done."

"If we even survive this battle."

"She will, Aragorn, I swear it, if it takes my life a second time, I will see her live."

Aragorn looked at Boromir, at the vow he made to his king, a vow that he knew meant Boromir saw Menna not just as the holder of his life debt, but as his future queen.

He turned away, taking another breath of the pipe as they fell to silence once more, "I know not," he said after a long while.

"Hmm?" Boromir hummed in question.

"When I first began to feel for her," Aragorn spoke quietly, sounding as though he were both reluctant to admit he felt anything, but also as though he desperately needed to speak of it for it had plagued him much, "She has always been strong, beautiful, courageous, selfless, and gentle, with a wit as sharp as her knives. Any would agree."

"Aye, they would."

"I know not when it began but…" he sighed, shaking his head and looking down, "When I heard your horn, Boromir, when I heard of her struggle to protect Frodo, when I thought her in that true danger apart from me…"

"It was when you realized you had begun to feel for her," Boromir finished.

"Aye. From that moment, it was as though I could not ignore it any longer."

And indeed it had been the threat of losing her that had caused a rush of emotions he had not known he possessed for her. Once they came, they had not gone, and it left his heart warring with this new closeness to her and with his place for Arwen within him.

"I owe Arwen my loyalty," Aragorn continued, "I should not allow my heart to be so easily swayed by another."

"You have a choice to make, Aragorn," Boromir spoke after a thoughtful silence, "If I may part with some advice?" Aragorn nodded, "Do not let what has already come to pass prevent you from forging new paths. Do not let the perceived pain of others cause you to pain yourself. Happiness is too precious to be forsaken."

Aragorn could only stare after Boromir as the man patted his arm and stood to return to his own tent, for his words had been those of the Lady Galadriel so long ago. He let out a breath and turned to look back at the camp, unable to help when his gaze drifted to the side, to a very small tent that Menna had been given only a short distance away.

He sighed, shaking his head and put out his pipe to retire for the night, Boromir's words had given him much to think on but made his choice no more easy to make.

A/N: Finally some progress right? :D I feel like, with Legolas being an Elf and Gimli a Dwarf, there's always going to be this sense that 'Aragorn's not MY king' even though they respect him and support him, so neither of them would really notice-notice something like this brewing between Aragorn and Menna. Boromir, however, this IS his King, this is the man he will look to to rule his people, there's a kinship and closeness, an attention he pays Aragorn that others don't. HE would probably notice these odd moments his king displays around Menna, whom he also now pays more attention to due to the debt he feels he owes her. And, in being loyal to both, Boromir would do his part to try and help them.

I think it was a needed conversation between them, to sort of push Aragorn to admit he DOES feel something for Menna and to think on what caused it to come to the forefront. We've all seen it's been there for a while, slowly growing, and something seemed to trigger it to make him aware of how he felt. Now we get a bit more understanding of where his head is at and why he seems so torn. He's made promises to Arwen, and he feels guilty that his heart has started to open to another, despite that he HAS sort of ended it with Arwen (even if he hadn't really meant it) and she's (so far) leaving to be with her people. There's still that guilt that he professed so much love and attention to her, and now he feels something for Menna. We'll get a little more about why he maybe hadn't felt for other women but Arwen (and now Menna) in his life in another chapter ;)

But here's the question neither men have asked just yet...does Menna feel for Aragorn what he feels for her? It's all well and good for the king to set his sights on someone, but does that someone feel the same?

Well, WE know this is an Aragorn/OC story, but the characters may need a bit more to get there ;) ;)

I wanted to show a little more about the Nameless stigma from Theoden, it's probably not going to help inspire trust that she has a necklace of Rohan when it comes to how she got it lol. Maybe she was trying to get on his good side by paying her own respects to his son. But I also wanted to sort of show also the different ways Menna views and speaks about kings too. She teases Aragorn about him not being a king and the ways his kingdom (if he has one) could have fallen due to his choice of queen, yet she seems to defend Theoden and his choice (perhaps not the best choice) in how to protect his people. I feel like a small part of that is that Aragorn really isn't king yet, so she can sort of say what she wants to him, until he's ruled his people he can't really judge how other kings rule theirs. Theoden has ruled and been king, in the decades he ruled he would have learned what is best for them, and so she defends him a bit more. I just keep thinking about when Aragorn ends up being king one day, I can see her literally attending his coronation and going 'How much did you pay these people to put on this production? You're not fooling me' lol :)

Some notes on reviews...

Lol, Aragorn is really fun to write :) It's like his feelings are so subtle, that it even confuses him. He saw Arwen, he fell in love, and pined for her like a beautiful dream ever since, till he finally got her love in return. But with Menna, it was slow, it was little by little, it was learning about her before falling for her, seeing the beauty in her after the fact. Love at first sight vs. a love that grows. And then add on the 'I can't because Arwen' with the 'But Boromir CAN' and he just doesn't know what to do with himself :)

I'm very excited to get to the Battle of Helm's Deep with Menna and Boromir around :D

I'm glad you're enjoying the stories! :D I've actually had a reader or two get through a few stories in different categories and then realize after they finished it that they were all written by me, it's always fun :) I hope you like my other stories if you do decide to jump through them ;)


	6. Wargs

A/N: Hello everyone! :) I'm gonna keep this short, there's an A/N at the end of the chapter that talks more about what happened, posting order, and update schedule. Now, onto the chapter!

~8~

Wargs

Aragorn was deep in thought as he walked in the middle of the refugees bound for Helm's Deep, the reins to his horse held loosely in his hand. Without intention he had positioned himself between the horse and Menna who walked to his left. Eowyn was beside her, her own horse being tended to by her people after the fright it had gotten from Gimli. If he lifted his head more, he would see Boromir a short distance ahead, the man rarely ever putting himself far from Menna, even less so now that he knew his king's fascination with the woman.

A part of him regretted that he had been so open with Boromir, admitting to the man the folly he felt in having allowed his heart to open to another. For so long, for so many years, he had been so sure in his love and devotion to Arwen, the fairest of Elven maids. He had thought their bond strong enough to endure any challenge put to them for they had faced many who opposed their connection. Arwen's father, the Lord Elrond, was the firmest opponent.

He had stood against Elrond, a man who was like a father to him, for love of Arwen, to prove his worthiness of her love.

He had never entertained the thought that another could captivate him as strongly as Arwen had, for he had but seen the Elven maiden and fallen so quickly his world had shifted around him.

He had not lied to Boromir when the man asked when he first began to feel for Menna in a manner that was not that of the camaraderie one would feel for his fellows at arms. He truly could not say when. And perhaps that was why it had taken so long for him to even realize he felt anything at all, it had happened so slowly, built up in such a manner as he had not seen it coming.

With Arwen, it had been so instant. He had been blinded by her beauty, drawn by the divine light of the Eldar that shown in her eyes, the flawlessness of her being. She was a dream come alive.

The words he had said to her when last they met came back to him at that thought, she was a dream.

She was a fantasy of a young man, one who fell in love quickly and stayed in love for that was all he knew. He had loved her for ages, it had been such a part of him, that he could not even see when it had faded, when he had grown beyond it. He had loved her for so long he didn't know how not to love her. Speaking with Boromir he had come to realize that he had spent so many years _loving_ her, he was not even aware if he was still _in love_ with her.

Somewhere through the years, that initial, blazing love had changed. _He_ had grown, but _it_ had not. It was still the love of a boy taken in by something so much more glorious than he had ever known. He had dreamed of a life with Arwen, ignoring all the realities that would come with it.

As a boy he had envisioned growing strong, having adventures through Middle Earth, and gaining the ability to rule and rule well. He imagined riding into Gondor with a retinue of trusted men, reclaiming his throne, and calling for Arwen as his Queen. He dreamed of family, growing old with her, their children succeeding him and reigning over their kingdom in harmony and peace.

He had not considered her isolation. He had not allowed for the thought of war or opposition. He had not thought of the trials he would need to face to claim his throne. He had never once believed a time would come where he would not want to be king, where he would fear it or the responsibilities that came with it.

In truth, he could not help but wonder had he ever spoken to Arwen about what she would want?

He had regaled her at times with his vision of their future, their kingdom. He had spoken of his doubts about being king, Arwen had always encouraged him, had faith in him.

Was it the crown she loved or him?

He shook his head firmly, that was unfair to Arwen. He knew her better than to entertain thoughts like that.

There was something to be said in his wonderings. When he thought of Arwen, he could not imagine her living in the woods, sleeping in the dirt and mud, living off of scraps of meat cooked on a spit, seeking what cover could be found from the rain and snow and elements. She was so ethereal.

She truly was a dream.

What had caused him to wake from it?

There had been a time before the Fellowship departed Rivendell, Lord Elrond had come to him, begging him in his way to let Arwen go with her people across the Sea. It had not been the first time the Elven Lord had made such a plea, but it had been the first in a number of years.

 _Why_ had he let her go _this_ time?

It was something he had not been able to cease thinking of since his talk with Boromir.

Why had he not fought harder for her?

The love that blazed so brightly within him when he had been a boy fresh in love with an Elven maiden, that boy could never imagine being parted from her, not for anything.

The man who stood before her on the bridge of Rivendell and attempted to return her Evenstar necklace to her…he had stepped away from her knowing it would be the last time. Even if he survived this quest, he knew he would not see her again for she would go with her people, and he had still stepped away.

He had loved her so long he had not realized the love had become _habit_.

Not until he had walked away from it.

Not until a new, _different_ love began to grow within him.

What he felt for Menna…it was truly so startling a contrast to what he had felt for Arwen.

As Arwen was the Evenstar, shining silver in the night, beautiful but distant, Menna was like the sun, shining golden in the sky, warm and felt.

It should not have been so jarring a realization that the love he felt would be different this time nor that it should come about in such diverse ways.

Arwen was an instant taking in, Menna's had been a slower pull.

It happened so gradually he could not see where it began, only that it was there now and had been for quite some time. Small things that came together into one perfect whole and did so in a way where that perfection was not easily seen.

Her courage, her drive, her compassion and dedication and endurance. Her smile and laugh, her tears and pain. The way she cared for the Hobbits yet so little for herself. The way she tried to help others bear their burdens but bore her own so rigidly. The way she gave so readily to others in need and spoke so little of what she needed. She was coarse and brash and… _real_.

She bled and wept and bruised and cried, she shouted in anger and raged, she laughed and clapped and cheered, she feared and trembled.

She saw the world for what it was, she endured that world. She could skin a hare as well as she could gather water. She could sharpen a knife as easily as she threw them. She could throw herself into the brush, twigs in her hair and dirt on her face, as readily as she could press her hands to a wound pooling blood. And while he had no illusions that Arwen would not rush to help those in need, he could not imagine the higher Elves, so elegant and refined, dirtying themselves. Oh he had seen them in healing halls, at the ends of battles, tending to those wounded, but in stable settings. He knew there were warrior elves, Elrond's sons were well known warriors, as was Elrond himself.

Menna made him think.

She made him feel light.

She made him _want_.

Want to be a king, be a good king.

Even if part of it was to prove her wrong in her thoughts that he was not the actual king of Gondor. There was a fun there, in the challenge of it. But there was a _challenge_. They disagreed, they fought together, they talked, they sat in silence, they were about to face the greatest evil of this realm and do so together.

With Arwen, it felt so easy at times, so perfect, in Rivendell, a world apart, a land frozen in the timeless beauty of the Elves. But it was not HIS world, it was not the realm of Men. It was unchanging and everlasting, whereas Men did not have that eternity.

Time had never been more precious to him with the darkness spreading through the land and the more time he spent around Menna, the more precious he found it to be.

It was a sorrowing experience, to realize his first love had grown to something else. Still there but just...changed.

The longer he thought on Boromir's wisdom, the more he felt in his heart that the man was right. He could no longer afford to let pain to others hold him back from that which made him happy, for such a feeling was far too scarce in such a time as this. He had given his heart to Arwen but he had had to take it back when last they parted, she had given her heart to him, insisting he keep it. But he could not.

He looked over from his thoughts, to the object of them, to see Menna and Eowyn speaking quietly beside him and took a moment to just gaze upon her.

She was offering Eowyn a warm smile, but even in that he could see a pain behind it, one that was always present in all she did, minute though it was.

 _He_ could see it though.

He could see her so clearly.

Eowyn glanced over, seeing Aragorn looking at them. Her gaze flickered down to the pendent he wore on a chain around his neck and bit her lip. A man like him did not wear such finery without cause. She turned her attention back to the girl at her side though she was still wary of the Nameless woman. One did not often trust, nor should they _ever_ trust, any of the Nameless for only those who had committed the most terrible of crimes were cast from their families.

Yet the men she traveled with and the wizard who had restored her king all appeared to trust her.

And so she would make the effort to do so as well, "You wear a rather unique pendent," she remarked, but not to Aragorn. While she burned to inquire as to the jewel he wore, it would not be proper to outright ask him when it was something of import to him.

Menna's hand went to her neck so quickly that Aragorn could see in how she tensed afterwards that she had not intended to do so. The woman seemed genuinely startled Eowyn had even noticed it past the think cloak she wore on their trek. She cleared her throat, "I mere trinket," she spoke, "Bartered for when last I traveled through your land."

Aragorn cast her an odd look for her words.

Though before he could speak, and perhaps that was best, Eowyn turned to him, "And you, Lord Aragorn?" she asked.

How she left Menna's answer for what it was spoke volumes to Aragorn. No question to how she found Rohan, to what drew her to such a pendent, to what was bartered. He could see now it had not been her focus, she had no care or concern or true interest in Menna's necklace, but more his own.

"A gift."

Eowyn nodded, "Where is she?" she continued, reading something more in his tone, "The woman who gave you that jewel."

"She is sailing to the Undying Lands, with all that is left of her kin," Aragorn answered.

This time it was _Menna_ who gave him an odd look, earning his gaze.

Eowyn looked between the two, the small smile that had grown on her face at the mention of the woman leaving fading at the near intensity in their eyes as they looked upon one another. She could see there was something both wished to say, but that neither would speak where others could hear. With a moment of hesitation, she took a breath and nodded her departure to them, moving away to check on her horse.

"A bartered trinket?" Aragorn's voice spoke quietly, a care in his tone that spoke of his consideration of her. It was clear in his voice that he felt she was speaking dishonestly but did not wish others to hear.

He was all too aware how little the people of Rohan trusted the Nameless, especially after a trusted adviser to the king had led him so astray.

Menna gave him a pointed look, "Do you honestly think it wise to tell the _Princess_ of _Rohan_ I stole this," her fingertips skimmed the pendent around her neck, "From her kin, given there are so few of them left?"

Aragorn straightened at her words, she had revealed more than he was sure she meant to in what she had said. Eowyn was not the princess she had knicked the necklace from then, it had been another. One of Theoden's sister-daughters he assumed. It would have had to be quite some time ago, there had not been another princess of Rohan in many seasons. Eowyn was the last, as Eomer was now the last prince.

He could see the wisdom in her silence. Menna had encountered one of the princesses before they passed from this world. It would do no one any good to reveal that the necklace she wore was stolen from one of the dead. Given her Nameless status, it might even incite accusations that Menna had been the one to end the princess's life.

Though he had not known her long, he knew enough of her character to tell she could no more kill in cold blood or to steal than a Hobbit could.

Let them think the necklace bartered in good faith if it meant Menna's safety and freedom.

He could see why Eowyn might have believed her. From what he had seen of it as he had tended her wounds after the Uruk-hai attacked, the pendent was crude in make, hardly something he thought a princess would wear. Though he had not lived among the people of Rohan in many years, they were a proud people, and the pendent was a replica of their flag. Black with the white horse galloping. Perhaps it had been a cheaply made token gifted to the princess that they had no care to look for when it went missing.

For a brief moment he was distracted by the reminder of the pendant's carving. How odd it was that a woman fearful of horses should wear its likeness around her neck.

The moment passed equally as quickly. It was not uncommon to be fearful of that which was also beautiful. Storms could be as glorious to observe as it was terrifying to be caught in the middle of. Wizards were among the most powerful creatures in the realm, respected as much as they were feared. Kings as well. Menna, he knew, had a tremendous respect for horses even if she was scared to death of them.

It was also not unheard of to carry something that reminded one of their fears, as courage to face other things that were not as frightening. Perhaps the necklace was a totem of strength, so long as she was not facing a horse then the challenge ahead was not nearly so fraught with peril.

He could not stop the small chuckle that escaped under his breath at that, for Menna had proven exactly that.

The woman who could trek through a Dwarvish mine turned graveyard, face down Uruk-hai and goblins and Balrogs, and throw herself into battle against overwhelming numbers…and yet turned pale and skittish when a horse was before her.

His laugh drew Menna's attention back to him, the odd look returning to her face, "And you?" she countered, "'She is sailing to the Undying lands with her kin?'"

"What of it?" he turned

She shook her head slowly, observing him intently, as though trying to work out a puzzle without clues to the answer, "It is strange, is all," she responded, "If I did not know the love you hold for your Elf, I would have thought you content with her departure."

There was a thump within Aragorn's chest as his heart hammered within him, feeling himself on the precipice of something he could not understand, "I am," he responded softly, "Arwen deserves to be with her people," he nodded, "A mortal life is not what she deserves."

He glanced over at Menna when she fell silent though continued to gaze at him. There was something to her expression he had not expected to see. It was as though he could see concern, sorrow, and conviction reflected in her eyes.

"A life without love is not what _you_ deserve," she murmured, seeing the unspoken question in his own eyes as to what she was thinking.

Aragorn let out a soft exhale at the care and concern in her voice, all for _him_ , "Then…perhaps, as an Elven Queen would not be right for my kingdom, an Elven love would not be right for _me_."

That earned a quirk of the lip from Menna, who shook her head and looked ahead once more, "I suppose it is a good thing you have no kingdom to worry for," she nudged his arm in jest, "More time to consider what _is_ right for you."

The 'or who' had been just on the cusp of coming out when a small commotion ahead of them began to stir.

There was a sound of growling and shouts, men screaming on the other side of a hill. Legolas was ahead of them, leaping off that very hill to the other side of it, his bow drawn. That was all that was needed for Aragorn and Menna to take off towards the likely danger, the reins of the horse forgotten in Aragorn's haste. His hand was on his sword, Menna's gripping the strap of her knives which had since been returned to her after Theoden King had been restored.

They reached the top of the hill in time to see Legolas turning away from a fallen Orc, a knife in his hand. The Elf was the only one left standing alive. Two guards lay slain on the field, a warg downed by an arrow in its side, the Orc riding it felled by Legolas's hand.

"A scout!" Legolas shouted to them, the moment they reached him.

"The people," Menna breathed.

The two humans turned and ran back to the others, Theoden riding his horse towards them, having come to investigate the noise as well.

"What is it?" he called to them as they sped down the hill towards him, "What do you see?"

"Wargs!" Menna shouted to the king, "We are under attack!"

All around them the people began to panic, women crying out in alarm, men scrambling to grab anything they could to defend themselves.

"Get them out of here!" Aragorn all but ordered the king, looking over at the soldiers who began to take defensive measures, readying themselves for the battle ahead. But the villagers, the peasants, they would be slaughtered, and the soldiers would be torn between fighting the coming wargs and protecting those behind them.

Theoden nodded, agreeing, this was not a time to lash out about being given orders, not when they were the same he would have given himself. He turned on his horse, calling out to his men, "All riders to the head of the column!"

Aragorn ran straight to Eowyn who had rushed to take his horse when he ran ahead, pulling the reins from her hands and hurtling himself onto the back of it. His eyes sought out Menna's, expecting her to be right behind him, only to see her a short distance away, directing the villagers to turn and run towards the lower ground even as she scrambled to pull her cloak off, rolling it with a practiced ease into its smallest form to stuff into her pack for more freedom of movement.

She was going to fight.

On foot.

He could see even Gimli moving to mount Arod, Boromir already on Byre, his sword in hand, looking between his king and Menna. He gave Boromir a firm nod and jerk of the head and the man urged his horse towards Menna. Boromir was not just honorable, he was observant as he had proven during their nightly talks. He could see the man nearing Menna, but turning to hold Byre back, near enough away to guard the woman should anything happen, but far enough that it would not discomfort her. The man had seemed to realize Menna's weakness against horses without prying it from the woman nor drawing attention to his knowledge.

Aragorn looked to Legolas, the Elf remaining on the ground as well, keeping a lookout for their approaching enemies, to some of the foot soldiers and those on horseback.

"Go!" Menna's voice cut through the din, Aragorn's ears attuned to the nuances in her voice, the woman was ready now, knives in hand as she continued to urge the women and children away, "Go! Now!"

It was not till the last of her yells that Aragorn realized she was yelling not just to the villagers but to Eowyn as well, the woman standing among her people but not seeming about to flee.

Theoden, too, appeared to notice due to Menna's shouting, the man riding his horse over to his sister-daughter, "You must lead the people to Helm's Deep. And make haste!"

"I can fight!" Eowyn insisted, looking up at her king.

"No!" Theoden nearly spat, fierce. Aragorn could see as well as Theoden the moment her gaze turned to Menna, the argument she was about to make. They had no right to demand she flee due to her 'fragile womanhood' when another woman would stand among the soldiers.

"She…"

"She is not my concern!" Theoden snapped, cutting off the argument.

Aragorn's jaw clenched with the need to defend Menna. She could have abandoned their quest. She could have left. She could have argued with Theoden King as they all had rather than defend the man. She could be fleeing right that moment instead of readying to make a stand and protect these people. But she was not. She was preparing to face down another vicious enemy to protect the lives of those around her. Theoden's people.

She deserved more respect than to be cast off as something undeserving of concern.

He looked over at the woman as Menna looked away, turning as though making sure the villagers were truly leaving the field. He could see Boromir's expression mirroring his own, clearly having heard the man's shouting even from that distance.

"You must do this…" Theoden continued, more gently this time, "For me."

Theoden King held the gaze of his sister-daughter, leaving no room for disobedience, the expectation clear in his face. Not only was this her duty, to lead his people in his absence, but, with Eomer's fate unknown, this was…the last of his family. He had to protect her, he needed her safe. She was the last.

He did not look away until Eowyn did, until she turned, calling out to their people to follow her to Helm's Deep.

"Follow me!" he called out to his men, before urging his horse onward, leading his people, "Yah!"

"Make for the lower ground!" Eowyn did as bid, guiding her people away, "Stick together!" she turned, but for a moment, looking back at the guards and soldiers gathering around her uncle, her king, and her gaze moved from him to another man on horseback.

Lord Aragorn was looking across what was sure to become the battlefield to the only other woman left upon it.

He made no call to her, gave no order to flee. Menna would be able to stand and defend the people of Rohan while their princess was forced to flee.

And Lord Aragorn looked away from the woman only at the last second to rejoin Theoden King, his attention now fixed on the battle ahead, and so Eowyn turned and went after her people.

The sounds of horses racing up the hill, the roar of the Rohirrim as they rode to battle, were all that could be heard.

It was a _nightmare_ for Menna, not the approaching band of wargs and orcs, but the horses she had found herself in the middle of. She knew she was not as fast on foot, she knew she _should_ be on horseback for the initial attack. But that was not her plan. She knew her strengths, she knew what was best for her, what would allow her the greatest strength to her skills. She would not fare well on a horse, she could not throw her knives with enough efficiency from the back of one. But she could run and throw, and not many who went to battle on horse remained upon them through the fight. The Eorlingas were the greatest horse lords, they may manage it, but the orcs were not.

She would run after the soldiers, and by the time she reached them, the initial clash would have happened and a number of enemies would have been unseated.

She let out a string of words under her breath she had once heard a Dwarven blacksmith utter when he'd caught his finger between anvil and hammer, knowing it must be some sort of foul curse. She could hear one single horse behind her, the others having raced ahead. She did not need to glance back to know who it was.

Boromir.

That bastard.

With his damned life-debt nonsense.

She shook her head, losing sight of the horses ahead as they moved over hill and down the other side of it, able to hear the clash of battle beginning only moments later, Theoden King ordering his men to 'Charge!' But she would not be stopped, moving with a surefootedness up the hill and down. Her keen eyes took in the battle before her, the Rohirrim hacking away at the wargs and their riders. She could see Gimli topple off his horse, gripping his axe as he sprang to his feet just as she made it halfway down, Legolas already turning Arod to return and help.

By the time she reached the bottom, more than half the orcs had been thrown to the ground, their wargs raging about with no one to command them, making the battle all the more vicious and dangerous.

She took a single, fortifying breath before letting out a battle cry, knives gripped in her hands as she launched herself into the fray.

She lost sight of Boromir, of Legolas, of Aragorn even, not seeing the faces of the soldiers around her or the orcs she hurled her knives into, racing after the fallen bodies to yank her knives back out wherever she could. Everything narrowed down to warg, throw, orc, heave, repeat.

She was not the only one to fight from the ground, nor was Gimli, other soldiers fell to their feet and she did her best to cut down the numbers that would attack them.

She spun around, hearing a strangled grunt, to see Gimli trapped beneath a fallen warg, the Dwarf still cursing out about 'stinking creatures!' even as he was crushed under one. She began to move her way across the battlefield towards him, for the fallen Dwarf was more vulnerable pinned in place than the other soldiers were. She could see him struggling to lift the warg off him…and threw her knife with precision as an orc loomed over him, ready to strike…

Which just caused the foul creature to fall right on top of Gimli as well with a grunt.

"Lassie, you…" Gimli gasped as she appeared beside him, not needing to be an Elf with their sharp eyes to see the tavern knife embedded in the skull of the orc before she pulled it out.

"Do not. Say. A word," she hissed at him, moving to try and shove the warg off of him as he struggled to help, "I swear to what powers there be that if you claim a lifedebt to me as well, Gimli son of Gloin, I will let the next warg have you!"

Gimli did not speak another word, merely focused his strength on assisting her.

Until another warg crept up towards them, climbing over the body of its fallen kin and rider, to growl at them, baring its teeth, ready to fight, the suddenness of its appearance startling Menna back in shock…

When a spear went flying through it, Boromir behind it on Byre. He quickly moved off the horse, coming around to the other side of Gimli. He gave Menna a nod, both humans returning to the warg and hefting against it. Only the combined strength of Dwarf, Woman, and Man able to move it off their fallen comrade.

Boromir reached down a hand to help Gimli to his feet, Menna keeping guard for the moment, looking around for other members of the Fellowship, only to spin around when they heard Legolas cry out, "Aragorn!"

They turned in time to see Aragorn being dragged by a riderless warg, his arm caught, only moments before they both went sailing over the edge of a cliff.

"Aragorn!" Gimli cried out, the three of them racing in that direction, slashing at any orcs or wargs in their way, few though there were now that the Rohirrim were gaining the upper hand.

Legolas had beaten them there by mere moments, looking over the side of the cliff, the grim look on his face speaking words he dare not voice.

Menna approached slowly, crouching down at the edge of the cliff and peering over the side of the great drop at the river below.

"Get the wounded on horses!" the voice of Theoden echoed behind them, "The wolves of Isengard will return. Leave the dead," the sound of his horse clomping grew louder as he approached. He needed only a single moment, a single glance, between the four solemn individuals and where they were standing, to know what happened. He let out a long breath, "Come," he looked between them, the Dwarf, Elf, and Man giving him a hard, despairing look, while the Woman remained crouched with her back to him. He shook his head and turned back to his people.

Boromir took a breath, stealing himself, and looking to Menna, "Come," he repeated what Theoden King said, "We must away. It is not safe here."

"No," Menna spoke, standing from where she'd perched at the edge of the cliff, turning to face them, "You go," she nodded to Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir, "Go with the Eorlingas, protect Helm's Deep. I will follow the river…"

"I will go with you," Boromir stepped towards her.

But she held up a hand, straightening her back and lifting her chin, "You will do no such thing," she countered, an air of command in her voice, "What remains of the Fellowship made an oath to Gandalf and to Theoden King, to protect his people. But I made no such promise, and so I shall break no oath in refusing."

"Lassie…" Gimli shook his head, "Aragorn has fallen…"

"That may be, but his body remains," Menna argued, "And king or not, he deserves a proper rest."

It was different than with Gandalf, there was no body to reclaim, no way for them to reach it even if there was, and they had not the time to spare to search. But this... _this_ was possible. A river had a path to it, and their enemies would make for Helm's Deep not follow a Nameless woman of no consequence, she was not the Ring Bearer. But she would also not deprive the people of Rohan more protection in the three men before her.

No, this was not like with Gandalf, she would grieve later, when it was safe to do so, but this was not grief yet.

She looked between the three men, Legolas, she was surprised to see, was the only one nodded in understanding and acceptance.

"I do not like this," Boromir frowned.

"I do not care," Menna turned to him, "Had you fallen to the Uruk-Hai, I do not doubt for a moment Aragorn would have ceased the quest to find Merry and Pippin to see your body off. He deserves the same courtesy and respect."

She glanced over at Gimli as the Dwarf sniffled back his tears.

"Go to Helm's Deep," she repeated, "Protect it. I will find Aragorn. I will send him off or…if the gods are kind and he survived, return him to Helm's Deep."

She looked between the three men, giving them a firm nod, before turning to walk off, following the edge of the cliff until she could reach the hills that would lead down to the river.

It wasn't till she was far enough away from the lingering sounds of the battle recuperation that she heard it, a clippity-clop behind her.

She froze in place for a moment, flinching when a brief 'brrrhhh' followed.

She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder, tensing at the sight of Brego, the horse having followed her in the search for his new master.

"No," she shook her head, making flicking motions with her hands, "Shoo."

Brego merely neighed, stomping one of his hooves in clear protest.

Menna just turned and continued on, doing her best to ignore the clomping behind her.

A/N: Woo hoo, I'm back! :D I'm just sorry it took so long :( I had a note up on my tumblr in February about what's been going on but for anyone who doesn't frequent that site or who doesn't follow a few of my other stories I've been working to catch up on, the last time I tried to get back to posting, I ended up swapping the part time job I managed to get to working in a bank (I know it may not be easy now with everything going on, but when this situation is over and if you are in America on the east coast and really need benefits but can only maintain a part time job, TD Bank offers benefits to part-timers) and very soon after that got another job at a transit company so my work week between the two was Monday through Saturday, from like 5am till 7 pm, which didn't give much time to write since I had to get things ready for the next day and eat and sleep, and Sundays sometimes meant working at another branch if they needed help or catching up on things for the week :( BUT! One of the jobs offered me full time close to the start of February so I just had to make it two more weeks before things calmed down and I would have a steadier 9-5 sort of job :) I have evenings and weekends back now! :D

What that means for posting is that I'm going to start slow and aim for posting a chapter twice a week, I'm not sure if it will be specific days or just when I can get one up, but so far it seems to be Tuesdays and Fridays. If I can manage the two chapters I might move it up to two chapters of a main story and one of a spinoff or AU. So far in my plan for updating, I finished my Captain America and new Once Upon a Time story which had been incomplete and got through two more episodes (6 chapters) of my DW Angel story. Now my goal is to finish up this story for Menna and Aragorn, then do another episode for Angel, finish Sadie and the Doctor's current story for my other DW series, go on to another episode of Angel, finish up finish Claire and Sheldon's BBT story, and then finish the rest of Angel's story. And when I say 'story' I mean just the current open-unfinished story, not their entire series. Once I get all the open-stories complete, I'll evaluate where I am and work out what stories will come next. So it's going to be slow going, but I'm hoping to gain momentum as I get more used to the hours and flow of the full time position ;)

Now, to get back to this chapter ;)

I know in the movie, one of the fallen orcs sneers and gloats to the Fellowship that Aragorn was dead and that's how they learn about his fall off the cliff. But I felt, with Menna and Boromir there to help guard Gimli, it would give Legolas more freedom to pay attention to other members of the Fellowship in which case, he would have seen Aragorn being dragged instead. I actually debated whether to have it be Aragorn or Menna dragged over the cliff, but I felt like Menna would have gone to help Gimli and wouldn't have been in a position to end up where Aragorn did in the movie.

We got a bit more insight into Aragorn's thoughts on love for Arwen vs. Menna. I feel like, to him, he's realizing that (in the context of this story) his love for Arwen had become habit, something that went on for so long he didn't realize the nature of that love had changed. She was what he needed as a boy, someone he wanted to impress and win over, but as an adult with different responsibilities and a different outlook, he sort of needed someone who could change with him. Arwen remained the same, she always would, but HE changed, he needed someone different at this point in his life to truly get him ready for life ahead. He's spent so long loving Arwen, he didn't realize he wasn't really IN love with her any longer. He will always love her, but it's different than being IN love sort of thing. Now that he's had that sort of time to think, to go over Arwen leaving and how they parted ways, he might be more open to actually try to get closer to Menna, but we'll have to see how that goes or if he even gets a chance to lol :) It sort of speaks to different forms of love too and how Aragorn relates them. He didn't realize he loved Menna earlier because it happened so suddenly with Arwen that, to him, 'it can't be love if it's not sudden' but realizing he does love her opens him up to the realization that love can happen and grow differently, it can change and fade, but it's not always a bad thing.

Menna DID tell the Fellowship she stole the necklace, but then she told Eowyn that she bartered it. Menna is a thief and she's had to lie to save her skin in the past, to be crafty and sneaky, and she's looking ahead to 'if I tell her, I'll be arrested for theft' and so she said what she had to to not raise suspicions ;)

I hope Menna's decision to go after Aragorn isn't hypocritical compared to what she said/did when Gandalf first died. It's sort of a combination of it being a different situation, where there is a body and a way to get to it and minimal danger of being followed or tracked, compared to Gandalf falling into a pit in a cave with enemies in the cave and after them out of the cave. And also a sort of reflection to her bond with the Fellowship growing. She didn't really KNOW Gandalf the way she's come to know Aragorn and the others after the fact. And she doesn't feel the same for Gandalf as she does Aragorn...just what she feels we'll find out very soon ;)

Some notes on reviews...

Just want to start by saying I am SO sorry it's been so long for updates. Life seems to just hate me and pull the rug out from under me every time I get to a good place to pick up again :/ But I am back and so far things have gone smoothly with my job, so I'm hopeful to keep updating :) So many of you are curious about Menna! I'm so happy you are, it means a lot to me that she interests you :') We'll definitely get more clues about her and her past as the story goes on ;) I hope you all enjoy the rest of the story :)

I can say Menna didn't hear the conversation between Boromir and Aragorn :)

Menna is certainly a hard one to pin down. I don't want to say too much as we'll learn more about her as Aragorn does ;) But I can say that Aragorn will definitely have more moments with Menna where he's not all that great at hiding his growing feelings lol. Whether Menna picks up on that, given her serious lack of self worth, we'll have to wait and see ;)

We'll definitely see more of Aragorn's POV and inner thoughts as the story goes ;)

Oh Boromir, I think he's waiting to see if Menna returns Aragorn's feelings before sitting his king down to dish out a shovel talk. He is VERY serious about protecting her and anyone with the potential to hurt her physically or otherwise is something he will be sure to handle. So far he's not 100 percent sure where Menna stands in terms of Aragorn. If she returns his feelings, then it means Aragorn can hurt her even if he never means to or plans to, and at that point he'd pick up that shovel lol. But if she doesn't return his feelings, then Aragorn can't hurt her as much so he's safe. We're going to have to wait and see when Menna has her realization of love and her reaction to it, how she handles it, before Boromir can get involved ;)

I feel like if this wasn't the middle of a war, Aragorn would SO woo Menna in so many ways. I could see poetry, or speaking compliments in Elvish, giving her little blossoms...gifting her with knives lol :) I'm sorely tempted to write a sort of epilogue chapter where we see them in the future and Aragorn is just his romantic devoted self to Menna, much to their children's disgust lol :)

Menna is definitely oblivious to other's feelings when they are positive towards her. It's sort of sad though :( She's spent her life experiencing distrust and judgement and being seen as insignificant and unimportant, the dirt under people's shoes, that when someone is actually kind to her or cares about her or values her life on the same level as their own, she genuinely doesn't know WHY they are :( It'll be interesting to see how someone actually loving her will go :)

Yup, I'm updating again :D I hope you like what's coming! :)

I can't wait till more about Menna's past is revealed to see who might guess it. I do try to leave little clues and foreshadowing in my works whenever I have any kind of twist or 'revelation' or surprise planned because I don't want things to feel like they were just thrown in for shock value but actually had a build up to it. We'll have to wait and see what happens ;)


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